The Ones We Love
by AJ Kline
Summary: The orphan of Windhelm has split company with the Dragonborn to make his own way in the Dawnguard. Desmond Ice-Fist takes on old demons as the Volkihar vampires try to take control of Tamriel. Dawnguard questline spoilers. T for some language and blood. Set after the Skyrim fic Stars to Guide You. Updates on alternate Saturdays!
1. Adventure Seeker

**Adventure Seeker**

The Bee and Barb was busy as Riften settled in for the evening, patrons talking and laughing over drinks. Two men sat and talked over dinner at a table in the corner, catching up after time apart. They were an odd pair, a young man with his older companion, but no one in Riften gave them a second glance.

"Here's to getting out of there alive," Desmond Ice-Fist said, raising his bottle of mead.

Martin Septim laughed, raising his own. "Hear, hear."

They drank to Helgen, where they had met nearly a year ago now. The civil war still raged on to the point where remembering who was in charge of a hold at the moment was nearly impossible. Dragon attacks still tore down houses and villages, but with far less frequency than before Alduin's fall in Sovngarde. Both of them had made friends and enemies alike in their various exploits, both together and apart.

"Which reminds me," Martin said, digging around in his rucksack for something. "Happy birthday."

"Hm?" Desmond set down his now empty bottle, peering curiously around the table at his companion's bag. "When'd I tell you that?"

"You mentioned it once," Martin said. "In a cell. You told me you were just seventeen last month. Which, now, I suppose is eighteen this month. Right?"

Desmond laughed. "Yeah! It's, ah, next week. On the eighth."

"Well, then I'm early." Martin set down a small box on the table. "Happy birthday."

Desmond picked up the box. It was very small and very light. Inside was a silver emerald ring that glowed faintly of green. "I'm flattered," he said. "But—"

"It's not a wedding thing," Martin said, exasperated.

"No, it's just—! I'm not a jewelry person," Desmond explained.

"I know, but hear me out. I've been practicing enchanting, and—"

"Oh gods, is it gonna explode?" Desmond cautiously set the ring back in the box. "It's not that I don't—"

Martin sighed dramatically. "If you _must_ know, I had Amelie do this one."

"So you're on speaking terms again?" Desmond prodded playfully.

Martin opened his mouth to respond, then seemed to think better of whatever immediately came to his mind. "...Yes," he said hesitantly.

"Pff. All right," Desmond said, shrugging. Far be it from him to meddle in Martin's bizarre ghost affairs. "What's it do?"

"It should steady your aim with a bow," Martin said. "Or a crossbow. Anything that shoots, I suppose."

"Excellent!" Desmond slipped it onto the pointer finger of his left hand. It was a perfect fit, perhaps Martin was a better smith than Desmond ever gave him credit for. "I'm sure I'll put it to good use. Thanks."

"Enjoy it." Martin sat back in his chair with a contented sigh. "It truly is nice to relax for a change."

"Right?" Desmond laughed. "Ain't that the truth. Feel like I've been running ragged these past couple weeks."

"Where are you off to next?"

"That fort east of Riften I mentioned a few months back," he said. "Fort Dawnguard. Going to fight off the vampires."

"You still haven't gone?"

"I keep meaning to, but stuff just keeps coming up. Bandit raids, Dark Brotherhood assassins—"

"You've got them too?" Martin asked.

"Yup."

Martin scowled bitterly. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. Kinda darkly flattering," Desmond admitted. "Someone hates me enough to Black Sacrament me, it's like a weird compliment."

"That's one way to picture it."

"What about you?" Desmond said. "Heard you were taking down werewolves in Falkreath."

"I—_that's_ what you heard?" Martin demanded. "That is _not_ what happened."

"Fine. What's next, then?" Desmond asked. "Wanna come with me?"

Martin shook his head. "Maybe another time. I need to head back to the Temple of Mara, and then I have some business in Winterhold to attend to."

"Sounds... fun."

Martin waved him off, pulling a face. "Run off to your _fort_, then."

Desmond laughed. "Think I'll take off in the morning. Bit of a trek, it's out in the mountains."

"I should probably leave tonight. I would rather ride in the dark and get there in the morning rather than spend the whole day in Winterhold and need to walk back at night."

"Night travel's not safe," Desmond warned. "Vampires."

"Well, if you'd _deal_ with them—"

"I will!" Desmond snapped, grinning.

"Good." Martin got up, stretching. "I'll try to avoid being out after dark... Oh, give me your map a moment."

"Eh? What for?" Desmond produced his well-worn and scribbled-upon map anyway, watching Martin mark a spot in the center of Skyrim.

"I've bought a house, and—"

"How?" Desmond asked. "Aren't you broke?"

"I am now," Martin said. "But—no, the point is, I bought a piece of land and I'm going to build a house there."

_"You're_ going to build a house? You?" Desmond eyed him suspiciously. "You can't even lift a shield, how are you gonna handle logs and stones?"

"I already have a sort of cabin put up," Martin said defensively. "If you ever need me, check there rather than the Temple from now on."

"Got it." Desmond took back his map, standing up as well. "Call it a night. See you again?"

Martin nodded. "Be safe out there."

"I'll be safe when the world is safe," Desmond said.

"Then fight bravely."

Desmond grinned. "I intend to."

* * *

Fort Dawnguard was far to the east of Skyrim, and the canyon that led to it had been incredibly easy to miss. Desmond felt certain he'd walked past it at least twice in his search for the crevice that led into it. But, once inside, Desmond was glad he had finally decided to come.

Waterfalls with crowns of ice that still clung to Skyrim's cold flowed down from the cliffs above. The canyon was chill, but still green with life as summer gave way to fall. The entire place was more or less deserted, only one other on the path leading to Fort Dawnguard.,

"Oh, hey there!"

"Hey," Desmond said, waving. A handsome young boy who looked to be about his age waved back.

"Are you here to join the Dawnguard too?" asked the stranger.

"That's the plan. You too, huh?" Desmond guessed.

"Yeah. Truth is, I'm a little nervous. I've never done anything like this before. I hope you don't mind if I walk with you?"

Desmond laughed. "Sure, yeah. I'm Desmond."

"Agmaer. Good to meet you." They set off together, following the path around the lake and towards the fort. Agmaer was a little fidgety and definitely nervous. This was very clearly an intimidating new undertaking for him.

"Think there'll be a lot of us?" Desmond asked, looking around. No one had followed him into the canyon, and there didn't appear to be any other recruits as they followed the path up.

"Probably not. Oh hey, uh..."

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell Isran I was afraid to meet him by myself," Agmaer said sheepishly. "Not the best first impression for a future vampire hunter, I guess."

"Yeah. I mean, no, no worries," Desmond said quickly. "I get it. Where you from?"

"Falkreath," Agmaer answered. "Born and raised. This is my first time out and about."

"Really? That's... neat," Desmond said, trying not to make Agmaer any more anxious than he already seemed to be. "Nice... nice place, Falkreath."

"What about you?"

"Oh. Born in Windhelm, raised in Riften," Desmond said. "I've been all over now, though."

"Wow. You've probably killed lots of vampires, huh?" Agmaer pressed.

"Not really," Desmond said, thinking back on the past several months. "I mean, there've been more vampires recently, but mostly..." He broke off.

"What?"

"Just, y'know, bandits 'n stuff," he covered quickly. "Wolves. You know how it is."

Agmaer laughed hollowly, his nerves still getting the best of him. "Yeah. I'm sure Isran will sign you right up. Not sure he'll take me. I hope so."

"I'm sure he will," Desmond said kindly as they rounded a corner.

Fort Dawnguard loomed over them, large stone towers reaching high into the sky. The fort was enormous, impressive for something so far removed from the rest of Skyrim. Desmond looked up at it, imagining fighters and hunters all preparing for battle within it.

"That must be it. Fort Dawnguard," said Agmaer.

"Wow. Bigger than I expected." The pair of them continued down the path, the canyon still eerily silent.

"Where is everybody?" Agmaer asked. They passed only two people on the way in to the fort proper: an Orc practicing with a crossbow, and a Breton man standing on the steps of the fort.

"Here to join the Dawnguard?" the Breton asked.

"Yes, sir," Desmond said at once.

The Breton laughed. "Good. Isran will decide if you've got what it takes. Go on, he's right inside."

"Shall we?" Desmond asked Agmaer, pushing the big double doors open.

The inside of Fort Dawnguard was significantly less impressive than the intimidating exterior. The fort was dimly lit and smelled of dust and cobwebs. Boxes and crates were pushed against the walls, leaving a large, circular area clear before them. A Redguard man with a heavy warhammer on his back stood speaking to someone clad in a vigilant's robes. They appeared to be arguing. Agmaer hung back by the door, and Desmond did the same. He'd learned early on that intruding on older folks while they were arguing was _always_ a bad idea.

"Why are you here, Tolan?" the Redguard asked, his voice deep and gravelly. "The Vigilants and I were finished with each other a long time ago."

"You know why I'm here," the Vigilant shot back. "Vigilants are under attack everywhere! The vampires are much more dangerous than we believed!"

Desmond crossed his arms, shifting his weight between his feet. That certainly didn't bode well... perhaps he'd waited a bit too long to follow up on this.

"And now you want to come running to safety with the Dawnguard, is that it?" the Redguard snapped. "I remember Keeper Carcette telling me repeatedly that Fort Dawnguard is a crumbling ruin, not worth the expense and manpower to repair. And now that you've stirred up the vampires against you, you come begging for my protection?"

Vigilant Tolan glowered at him. "Isran... Carcette is dead. The Dall of the Vigilants, everyone... they're all dead. You were right, we were wrong, isn't that enough for you?"

Isran's brows knitted together, though his expression couldn't quite be called sad. "Yes, well... I never wanted any of this to happen. I tried to warn all of you. I _am..._ sorry, you know."

Isran turned from the Vigilant to the two boys by the door. "You there. Stop skulking in the shadows and step up here."

Desmond cast a glance at Agmaer. The poor boy had gone pale, and inched forward as Isran spoke.

"What's your name?"

"I'm, uh... my name is Agmaer, sir."

"Do I look like a _sir_ to you, boy? I'm not a soldier, and you're not joining the army," Isran said harshly.

Agmaer flinched a bit, recoiling from Isran's voice. "Yes, si... Isran."

"Farm boy, eh? What's your weapon?"

"Uh, my weapon?" Agmaer swallowed hard, petrified. "I mostly just use my pa's axe, when wolves are attacking the goats or something."

Isran shook his head, laughing. "'My pa's axe.' Stendarr preserve us." He shot a look at Desmond, still standing by the door. "Didn't I tell you to step forward? Who are you? What do you want?"

"Desmond Ice-Fist, here for the vampires," Desmond said, walking forward to stand beside Agmaer.

Isran looked him up and down, clearly not impressed. "I'm glad word's finally started to get around, but that means it won't be long before the vampires start to take notice as well."

"So let's get started. What can I do?" Desmond asked.

Isran frowned at him. "What makes either of you think you've come to the right place?"

"I want to fight vampires," Agmaer said, surprisingly quickly. "That's... that's why I came."

"Same. I'd heard you were looking for vampire hunters. Is that not the case?" Desmond said pointedly.

Isran narrowed his eyes at Desmond. "How old are you, boy?"

"Eighteen next week." Desmond stared firmly back at Isran, arms defiantly crossed. After dragons and daedra, Isran certainly did not scare him. "So are you vampire hunters or not?"

Isran was silent for a moment. "You heard right. I think we can make Dawnguards out of you two."

"Good. Where do we start?" Desmond asked.

"You start with a crossbow—"

"Done." Desmond pulled his crossbow off his back, eager to get moving. "Now wh—"

"Where in Oblivion did you get that?" Isran demanded. "Crossbows are a Dawnguard specialty."

Desmond hesitated, his heart stopping for a moment. Where on earth _had_ Sarika gotten it? "Found it in a bandit camp," he said quickly.

Isran grumbled something under his breath. "Wouldn't surprise me... need to get better security around this place," he scoffed. "Either of you know how to shoot?"

"No, sir," Agmaer said. "I mean—"

"Take a few shots at those crates over there. Watch the recoil, takes some getting used to," Isran directed, passing Agmaer a crossbow. "What about you?"

"It's served me well taking down dragons," Desmond said pointedly. "I figure little bloodsuckers won't stand a chance."

"Damned right they won't."

"So what now?" Desmond asked, watching Agmaer cautiously aim his new crossbow and hanging his own on his back again.

Isran crossed his arms, looking him over with a new appreciation. "I need someone out in the field, taking the fight to the damn vampires while we're getting the fort back in shape. Tolan was telling me about some cave the vigilants were poking around in... seems to think it was related to these vampire attacks."

"Great."

"Tolan, tell him about... what was it, Dimhollow?"

"Yes, that's it." The Vigilant, who had been silently watching until now, turned his attention to Desmond. "Dimhollow Crypt. Brother Adalvald was sure it held some long-lost vampire artifact of some kind. We didn't listen to him any more than we did Isran."

"That's good enough for me," said Isran, nodding to Desmond. "Go see what the vampires were looking for in this Dimhollow Crypt. With any luck, they'll still be there."

"Sure," Desmond said.

"I'll meet you at Dimhollow," Tolan added. "It's the least I can do to avenge my fallen comrades."

"Tolan, I don't think that's a good idea," Isran said cautiously. "You Vigilants were never trained to—"

"I know what you think of us!" Tolan snapped. Desmond stepped back on instinct, nearly bumping into Agmaer. "You think we're soft, that we're cowards. You think our deaths proved our weakness!" Tolan went on. "Stendarr grant that you do not have to face the same test and be found wanting."

The fort fell silent. Desmond looked between Isran and Tolan, unwilling to say anything to break the tension and direct their ire at him.

Tolan cast him a glance as he turned to leave. "I'm going to Dimhollow Crypt. Perhaps I can be of some small assistance to you."

The doors closed behind Tolan, echoing around the empty halls of Fort Dawnguard. Agmaer resumed his target practice at the crates.

"So..." Desmond broke off, at a loss.

"Feel free to look around the fort," Isran said. "You're welcome to anything you can use."

"Got any more bolts hidden away somewhere?" Desmond asked.

"Plenty. I'll go dig some up."

Isran left the entry hall, leaving Desmond to watch Agmaer's continued attempts to use the crossbow. Most of his shots splintered between the boards of the crates rather than lodging the bolt in the center.

"Aim up," Desmond advised.

"Huh?" Agmaer's shot faltered again, a bolt clattering to the ground as it bounced back off the stone wall.

"I know what you're trying to do," Desmond said, readying his own crossbow. "Trust me, I've been there. Aim a bit higher than you think you need to, like..." Desmond copied Amgaer's stance, trying to see what he was aiming at. There was a small knot in the center of one of the boards on the crate, without a single bolt around it. "If you aim right at it, right?" Desmond's shot fell a few inches too low. "So you aim up," he instructed, reloading the bow and taking another shot. It landed dead center.

"Nice shot."

"Just takes some practice." Desmond pulled the bolts back out of the crate. "Give it another go."

Amgamer raised his crossbow again, his aim uncertain as he tipped the bow to a higher angle.

"Aim up. I'm not kidding, _up,"_ Desmond said. Agmaer obeyed, and the next bolt landed nearer to the center knot than any of his past ones. "See?"

"Thanks," said Agmaer, beaming at him.

"Now you're getting it."

Agmaer took aim again. "So you've killed dragons?" he asked.

"Not by myself," Desmond added quickly. "I mean, but, uh... yeah, dragons."

"Wow. What're you doing here, then?" Agmaer shot again, every bolt landing closer and closer to the center knot. "Doesn't Skyrim need you?"

"If Skyrim needs me, she's got a funny way of asking," Desmond said. "It's not really _me_ that kills the dragons, anyway. I just help. And not so much, since Alduin died."

Agmaer took another shot. "Are you a guard or something?"

Desmond laughed. "Guard? No! I'm just an adventurer," he said. "My friend Martin and I—"

"Martin the Dragonborn?" Agmaer asked, lowering his crossbow in shock. "Really?"

Desmond hid a sigh. "Yeah, him."

"Wow. That's, that's so cool."

"Yeah." Desmond took a shot at the crates, landing dead center again. "Yeah, it's pretty cool."

"Bolts for the new Dawnguards." Isran returned with a pair of quivers, full of fresh steel bolts. "Get off to Dimhollow."

"I will," Desmond said, taking a quiver for himself. "Just figured I'd give Tolan a... a bit of space."

"Probably wise. Don't be too long," Isran said. "Report back whatever you find. And avoid sleep if you can," he advised. "Sleep is for the weak."

Agmaer awkwardly accepted a quiver of bolts and returned his attention to his crate. Isran's intimidating presence seemed to have a negative effect on his ability to aim properly.

"Hey. Wanna come with me?" Desmond asked Agmaer. "I could show you more crossbow stuff."

Agmaer hesitated, taking another shot at the crate. It fell several inches from the center of the crate. "Uh... no. I think I'll sit this one out," he said, anxiously reloading. "At least until I can shoot right."

Desmond nodded slowly. "Sure. All right, I'll be back, then."

He left the fort, alone again.

* * *

_"Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Martin Septim before he reaches Solstheim. Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased."_

Desmond frowned at the note left in the cracks of the door to the little house in the Pale. The house was less a house and more a rickety, dangerously leaning shack, and it seemed to be empty. He turned the note over, finding a few scribbled words from Martin.

_"I have gone to Solstheim to settle the score with Miraak. Best of luck with the Dawnguard, I will see you when we return. —Martin"_

He laughed. Ah, well, coming here had been a bit of a long shot. Dimhollow Crypt sat halfway betwen Morthal and Dawnstar, but it seemed Desmond had just missed Martin. Such the better, there was no time to waste in the war on the vampires. Desmond took off down the path, keeping an eye on the sun. The vampires were getting bolder, attacking in daylight. Traveling alone still made him a bit anxious, but not nearly enough to keep him from whatever awaited in Dimhollow Crypt.


	2. Just Get Me Out Of Here

**Just Get Me Out Of Here**

Desmond swore, blinking rapidly. The trek through the vampire-ridden crypt had left him unable to concentrate for long on the advanced spell, but it didn't matter: detecting life was clearly the wrong way to go about hunting vampires. At least there were no more spiders around.

"Magic is _awesome_, learn about _alteration_, you'll get _treasure,"_ he scoffed quietly. What use was treasure if the undead in the cave killed him because he couldn't see them? Maybe someone at the fort happened to know a good spell for detecting vampires in the dark. He gingerly stepped over the giant spider and the body of a master vampire that had tangled with it and pushed open a door to a massive cavern. At least Aleius's life detection spell had warned him about the spider.

"I'll never tell you anything, vampire!" More voices came from below, this one panicked and the other two calm. "My oath to Stendarr is stronger than any suffering you can inflict on me!"

"I believe you, Vigilant," said one of the calm voices. "And I don't think you even know what you've found here. So go and meet your beloved Stendarr."

Desmond's breath caught in his throat as he heard a slash of steel, then a body fall to the ground.

"Are you sure that was wise, Lokil?" came the second voice. "He still might have told us something! We still haven't gotten anywhere ourselves with—"

"He knew nothing."

Desmond crouched on the edge of a stone staircase, looking down on two vampires leaving behind the body of a Vigilant. Beyond was a massive round structure in stone, patrolled by skeletons and another vampire.

"He served his purpose by leading us to this place. Now it is up to us to bring Harkon the prize."

Desmond turned the corner to the staircase, suppressing a yell. Another stone gargoyle greeted him on the parapet, staring eerily at him. They were becoming more common the deeper he went into the crypt, unlike anything else he had ever encountered. At least dragons could blink.

Desmond crept down the stairs as the pair of vampires left the body of the Vigilant behind. "What is it with you Vigilants going alone to places?" Desmond whispered, not a moment later realizing that that was exactly what _he_ was doing. He rifled through a journal left by the poor man's body, skimming it as he kept an ear out for the vampires in case they returned. Apparently, the place was interesting, but held no answers. Desmond tossed the journal aside and readied his crossbow. He was in no mood for solving deep dark vampire mysteries.

A few well-placed bolts later, Desmond was alone. A quick life detection sweep of the room seemed to support this, so long as there were no vampires lurking where he could not see or hear them. He stood in the center of the cavern, trying to think. There were braziers set on pedestals dotting the stone circles on the floor, skeletons lying in their paths. In the middle of the circles was a stone pillar. A stone switch was set into the pillar.

"What am I supposed to do with all this?" Desmond asked the empty room, impatient. He frowned down at the switch on the pedestal, and jabbed at it with his finger. Nothing happened, save for a small grinding sound of stone against stone. It was definitely some sort of switch for something. Was it stuck? He whacked it with a closed fist, also to no avail. Annoyed, Desmond slammed his hand down hard on the button.

Something clicked, and a sharp metal spike burst up from the pedestal. Desmond yelled, sinking to the floor and shaking with shock as the spike retracted and left him with a gaping hole in his hand.

_"Son_ of the _gods_ be _damned_ straight to _Oblivion—!"_ Desmond swore up and down as he rooted around in his bag for something to help. Which came first, spell or potion? It would have to be the potion, there was no way he could focus enough for a healing spell as long as he could see through his palm. His good hand shook as he poured it out, spilling smoking drops onto the stone below. Something in his hand started rearranging itself in an unsettling way as scars stretched over the wound, the flow of blood beginning to slow as the potion worked.

Desmond ripped a piece of fabric from his sleeve, knotting it around his hand and yanking it tight with his teeth. He could no longer feel his fingers, and something definitely felt broken or shattered. Hopefully, he could get out of here quick enough to be seen by a healer who actually knew a thing or two. He let his head fall back against the pedestal in the middle of the room, blue and violet fire erupting around him. The circles sunk into the floor flowed with the bright light, bringing to mind the evening auroras that danced in the skies of Skyrim.

He stood up, scowling at the pedestal and examining the fires around him. They followed _some_ sort of pattern... if he were less angry with this whole place, perhaps he would care. Desmond kicked some of the braziers around at random, grumbling to himself. "Rotted _crypt_ with its _spiders _and,and_ vampires_ and bloody _spikes_, like I didn't need my hand for anything, godssakes..."

Finally, the center pedestal erupted in a pillar of purple fire. Whatever he'd done had worked: the floor began to sink in. He swore again, hopping out of the circle to the edges as the circles sank lower and lower, revealing whatever was below the spiked and bloody pedestal.

Doors?

"Huh. Maybe there _is_ such a thing as buried treasure," he said dismally, approaching them and giving them a solid kick.

The doors slid open. A woman with her hands crossed over her heart fell forward, catching herself before she could fall flat on her face. Desmond staggered back, baffled. How on earth could there have been a person in there?

"Ugh... what is..." The woman stood up, blinking rapidly. She was disoriented and seemed just as confused as he was. "Who sent you here?" she asked blearily.

"None of your damn business, that's who," Desmond said immediately, keeping his distance. The woman's eyes shone an uncomfortable shade of red, and even from his safe distance he could see fangs.

She crossed her arms. "I think it is, actually. Why would someone who isn't... like me come all the way down here?"

"So you _are_ a—"

"Vampire. Yes."

Desmond stared at her, at a loss. He certainly couldn't hit her or shoot her, not with his hand still lacking feeling in the fingers. Running also seemed like a bad idea—vampiers were much better suited to getting around in the dark than him. "I should kill you," he said quietly, not entirely sure how he intended to back up that ill-timed statement. "I'm Dawnguard, I should kill you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Not fond of vampires, are you?"

"No."

The woman sighed. Was that pity in her eyes? "Well, look. Kill me, you've killed one vampire. But if people are after me, there's something bigger going on. I can help you find out what that is."

Desmond kept his eyes on her, still refusing to go near her. "So you must be the _prize_ the vampires were after..."

"Sounds about right."

He shot her a glare that she immediately returned. On the one hand, the Dawnguard were vampire hunters. Why should he let even one live? On the other hand, he was injured and probably outnumbered, if not easily overpowered.

"Fine," he spat finally. "Just, just don't get in my way."

"I was going to say the same to you."

Desmond scowled at her. "Where you headed?"

"My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude, I would guess they still do," she said. "By the way... my name is Serana. Good to meet you."

"Right," said Desmond, looking her over. She certainly looked the part of a vampire, clad in dark colors over pale skin and red eyes. She had dark hair and something vaguely familiar on her back that reminded him of Martin for some reason. "What do you mean they _used_ to live there?" he asked. "How long were you in there?"

Serana chewed on her tongue, looking off into space as she thought. "Good question... hard to say. I can't really tell," she concluded. "I feel like it was a long time."

"At least you're not speaking Ayleidoon or something," Desmond said darkly.

"Who is Skyrim's High King?" she asked.

Desmond paused. "That's... actually a matter of some serious debate right now."

Serana rolled her eyes. "Wonderful, a war of succession. Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone. Who are the contenders?"

"Well," Desmond said, launching into the speech he'd heard others around him give a few times. "You've got Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Stormcloak rebellion who murdered High King Torygg a year or two back, so in theory it could be him, but the Empire supports Torygg's widow Elisif the Fair, Jarl of Solitude, and the country's kinda split."

Serana stared at him blankly. "Empire?" she asked. "What... what Empire?"

"THE Empire. Of Cyrodiil?" Desmond asked.

"Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire?" Serana asked, aghast. "I must have been gone longer than I thought... definitely longer than I planned."

Desmond shrugged. At least he wouldn't have to discuss politics anymore. "Ok... so why in the world were you put in there for so long you don't know about the Cyrodiilic Empire?"

"I'd rather not get into that with you," Serana said, glaring at him distrustfully. "If that's all right."

"Fine by me."

"I'm sorry, it's not that..." She broke off. "It's just that I don't know who I can trust yet. Let's get to my home, and then we'll have a better sense of where we all stand."

"Fine," Desmond repeated impatiently. "So what is _home?"_

"Island near Solitude. Hopefully, we can find a boat to take us there." Serana looked around anxiously, as though trying to find a way out for herself. "It's my family home. Not the most welcoming place, but depending on who's around, I'll be safe there."

Desmond's scowl deepened, still studying her. "Someone you don't want to see?"

"My father and I don't really get along," Serana said. "Ugh. Saying it out loud makes it sound so... common. Little girl who doesn't get along with her father—read that story a hundred times."

Finally, it clicked. "Is that an Elder Scroll?" Desmond asked, realizing why it looked so familiar and so out of place.

Serana took a step back. "Yes it is, and it's mine."

"Why in the name of the gods do you have an Elder Scroll?" he demanded.

"It's... complicated," Serana said slowly. "I can't really talk about it. I'm sorry."

Desmond shook his head, moving slowly up the stone steps to the edges of the platform again, careful not to let Serana out of his line of sight. "You know what, whatever. Do you know how to get out of here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Serana told him. "This place looks pretty different from when I was locked away."

"Great."

"So how did you get here?" she asked.

"None of your damn business."

"Fine." Serana followed him up the steps, Desmond walking a bit faster to keep his distance. They fell into tense silence, walking out towards the farther end of the platform.

An explosion of stone greeted them from the walls beyond. The stone gargoyles had burst to life, sending Desmond scurrying back towards the pedestal, fumbling as he tried to work his crossbow. A bolt flew past the gargoyles, out of sight and woefully off-target. Serana laughed, blasting the gargoyles back with spells on her own.

"Some vampire hunter you are," she taunted.

"How'm I supposed to shoot properly when I can barely feel my hand?" Desmond shot back at her, brandishing his bandaged hand.

"What'd you do to it? Have a run-in with a rat?"

"Your damned coffin stabbed me!" he spat, glaring. "Suppose it was to feed you and wake you up, now that I think about it."

Serana's grin vanished. "Oh."

"Do _not_ get any funny ideas about, about _eating_ me or anything," Desmond said fiercely.

Serana scowled at him as he shouldered open a heavy wooden door. "I could just leave you here to die," she said. "Get eaten by spiders or whatever else is in here."

"Yeah? You think _this place_ has changed since you've been down here?" Desmond fired back. "Get to Solitude on your own, then."

He stalked off down the path, leaving Serana behind.

"...Wait."

"S'what I thought," he scoffed.

They pressed onward, still tense and mostly quiet.

"So where are you from?" Serana asked.

"Windhelm. And Riften. Kind of."

"Oh." Silence. "I'm from Solitude."

"Yeah, I guessed."

More silence. Serana sped up a bit to keep up with him. "Are you always such a joy to be around?"

"No," Desmond said through gritted teeth. "Vampires bring out the worst in me. And so does getting _stabbed through the goddamned hand."_

The room ahead was oppressively warm and reeked of burnt flesh. Corpses lay strewn over the fire pit in the center of the room, skeletons and draugr rising to life from their thrones around the amphitheater.

"Think you can shoot?" Serana asked, firing off spells. A skeleton exploded apart, bones flying around the amphitheater.

"I think I still can't feel my fingers," Desmond snarled, taking refuge behind a stone wall inscribed with ancient letters. "...Huh."

"What are you doing?" Serana demanded.

"For a friend of mine," Desmond said, copying down the letters to the best of his ability with his left hand. "If he can read it, at least."

"Of all the rescuers I could have gotten—"

"You're welcome to wait," Desmond said, checking his work as another skeleton burst apart behind him. "See who else comes along."

"Just get me out of here," Serana sighed.

Desmond packed up his roll of paper and led the way. "The sooner we get out of here, the better I'll feel," he mumbled.

Evening had fallen by the time they reached snow. It was dark, and snow fell in heavy sheets from the cloudy skies above.

"Ah! It's so good to breathe again," Serana said, taking several deep breaths. "Even in this weather, it's better than the cave."

"Better snow than rain," Desmond said dismally. "Come on, I'm going to Morthal."

"I said I lived in Solitude."

"I don't trust a bunch of vampires to fix my hand," Desmond said pointedly. "I'm going to Morthal to get someone to fix it, and you're either coming with or going to Solitude by yourself. If I have to go someplace where everyone wants to eat me, I'm not going unarmed."

Serana scowled at him. "We don't eat people. We're vampires, not cannibals."

"That's supposed to be _better?" _Desmond checked his map, and set off down the mountain.

* * *

The tips of his fingers were still slightly numb, and Falion warned him that the center of his palm might never regain feeling. He bore a round, blackened scar over where the spike had done its damage. But, at least his hand still worked.

"How far from here?" Desmond asked. They had passed through Dragon Bridge hours ago, just before dawn after walking all night. He was exhausted, but not about to stop. Not in the company of a vampire.

"It's not too far, I think." Serana looked around. The mildly confused, lost expression on her face was still firmly in place. "Hopefully, at least. I thought you knew the way?"

"Why would I know the way? It's your home, not mine."

"Right. You're from the east."

"Windhelm and Riften," he said. "And wherever there's an inn, nowadays."

"You travel a lot?"

"Just around Skyrim," Desmond said. "Been all over. Lot of walking."

Serana shielded her eyes from the sun as it rose ever higher. "It's so bright out here... I don't know how you stand it."

"Maybe it's because I'm not an unholy creature of the night," Desmond said darkly.

"I'm not very fond of your tone," Serana snapped.

"I'm not very fond of you having tasted my blood, so I think we're about square," Desmond shot back.

They fell silent, approaching the Sea of Ghosts. Out on the horizon, the tips of towers poked through clouds over the sea.

"That must be it, huh?" Desmond asked, nodding to the far-off castle.

A small, run-down dock sat on the banks of the sea. Serana clambered inside, staring off at the castle. "Yeah."

"Let's get this over with, then."

* * *

_"This_ is your home?"

The castle was enormous, even more so up close. A small house could have sat snugly on the bridge leading to the doors.

"This is it," Serana said, nodding. "Home sweet... castle. Castle Volkihar."

"Why didn't you tell me it's so huge?" Desmond asked, still staring up at the towers. "I thought Fort Dawnguard was big."

"I didn't want you to think I was one of those, you know... the women who just sit in their castle all day?" Serana shrugged. "I don't know. Coming from a place like this, well. It's not really me. I hope you can believe that."

The bridge was lined with stony gargoyles. Desmond swallowed hard, staring straight ahead. Their eyes still followed the pair of them. None of this sat right.

"Hey, so... before we go in there," Serana said.

Desmond sighed. "What now?"

Serana scowled at him. "Fine. Don't worry about it. Once we get inside, you won't have to babysit me anymore."

"Fine by me," Desmond spat. "But if anyone in there tries to eat me, I will absolutely shoot."

"Just keep quiet," Serana said. "Let me do the talking."

"Lady Serana's back!" A voice came from within the castle gate. "Open the gate!"

"Come on." Serana led the way in. Desmond hung back, flexing his numbed fingers. "Come _on,"_ Serana prompted. "What, are you scared?"

"I'm outnumbered and overpowered, and I still can't feel half my fingers," Desmond said, glaring as he caught up with her in the entry to the castle. "So yeah, I don't feel too great about this."

"How dare you trespass here!"

A High Elf vampire ran forward, Desmond immediately reached for his crossbow. Serana stepped between them, staring the stranger down.

"Serana?" The vampire stopped dead in his tracks, shocked. "Is that truly you? I cannot believe my eyes!"

"It's me," Serana said with a small sigh.

The vampire turned heel, rushing to a balcony. "My lord! Everyone! Serana has returned!"

"I guess I'm expected." Serana followed the vampire down a set of steps from the balcony, waving for Desmond to follow. He hung back, reluctantly inching down the stairs and trying his best not to make eye contact with anything.

There were tables laden with meat and goblets of blood and potion. Black hounds that gave off dark streams of smoke wandered freely around the dimly lit hall. Vampires sat around the tables, watching Serana and murmuring amongst themselves. A tall vampire with dark hair stood as Serana approached him.

"I cannot believe it. My long-lost daughter returns at last." He drank deeply from a goblet before smiling at her. Desmond saw fangs. What else should he have expected, though? "I trust you have my Elder Scroll?"

"After all these years, that's the first thing you ask me? Yes, I have the Scroll," Serana said dismally.

"Of course, I'm delighted to see you, my daughter," the vampire said, his voice faintly menacing behind its saccharine tone. "Must I really say the words aloud?"

Desmond leaned back against the wall, taking up as little space as possible and observing from the last few steps of the stairs. There were a _lot_ of vampires here... if this turned bad, he was probably not getting out alive.

"Ah, if only your traitor mother were here. I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike," Serana's father said venomously. "Now, tell me. Who is this stranger you have brought into our hall?"

"This is my savior, the one who freed me."

Serana turned to him, nodding. Desmond shook his head a fraction of an inch. Serana glowered at him as her father frowned.

"Well? I'm waiting."

Desmond blew out a breath and set back his shoulders, walking up to the pair of vampires. If he was going to die here, he wasn't about to go down like a coward.

"For my daughter's safe return, you have my gratitude," said the vampire, inclining his head to Desmond. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"You first." Desmond clenched and unclenched his fist, more out of nerves than any desire to do damage with it.

"Very well." The vampire narrowed his eyes at Desmond. "I am Harkon, lord of this court. By now, my daughter will have told you what we are."

"Yeah. Vampires," Desmond said curtly.

"Not _just_ vampires," Harkon corrected. "We are among the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim."

Desmond's face remained unchanged. _"Vampires."_

"For centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the world," Harkon told him grandly. "All that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most."

Desmond resisted the urge to glare at Harkon, supposing that Harkon did not place his value with his daughter. "So what now?" he asked, deciding not to give voice to his guess.

"You have done me a great service, and now you must be rewarded," Harkon told him. "There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter."

"And what's that?"

"I offer you my blood." Harkon was watching him carefully, looking for a reaction. "Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again."

Desmond bit his lip to avoid laughing. Fear death? He had it on good authority that what came after death wasn't so bad as long as he managed to stay out of Oblivion. But... "And if I refuse?" he asked, desperately hoping there wasn't a death sentence on the other hand.

"Then you will be prey, like all mortals." Harkon stared cruelly down at Desmond, smoldering anger in his eyes. "I will spare your life this once, but you will be banished from this hall."

"Fine."

"Perhaps you still need convincing. Behold the power!"

Desmond stumbled back as Harkon's body morphed and changed, sprouting wings and horns as the bestial form of the Vampire Lord took over. His skin turned a sickly, mottled blue color, fangs drawing attention away from the horns on his head. He hovered just above the ground, looking down at a horrified Desmond.

"This is the power that I offer!" Harkon announced. "Make your choice."

"No deal," Desmond said immediately. "I'll be on my way."

Harkon's frown gave way to the full glare that seemed to run in the family. "So be it. You are prey, like all mortals. I banish you."

Before Desmond could react, Harkon had shot a spell at him. The last thing he remember was his knees hitting the ground as the world faded into black around him.

* * *

Desmond came to in the snow outside the castle, bleary-eyed and confused. What had happened?

He scrambled to his feet and sprinted towards the boat docked below, his conversation with Harkon rushing back to him. Vampires, lots of vampires, _a very large amount_ of vampires. He felt his neck for bites, checking over his arms and feeling his chest for a heartbeat. All still in order. Desmond yanked a hawk feather out of his bag and stuffed it into his mouth as he shoved off. Better safe than sorry.


	3. Catching Up

**Catching Up**

Desmond reloaded his crossbow, firing as quickly as he could. Isran, surrounded by some spell of sunlight, cut down the vampires as they tore up the path towards the fort. The few members of the Dawnguard who were around lent their strength and steel to the cause.

"Look at this," Isran scoffed, planting the blade of his axe in a vampire's skull. "I should have known it was only a matter of time until they found us... it's the price we pay for openly recruiting."

"Everyone ok?" Desmond asked, hanging up his crossbow. "Glad I got back when I did."

"We'll have to step up our defenses," Isran mused. "I don't suppose you have good news for me."

Desmond scowled, following Isran and Celann to the steps of the fort. "I have news, but I wouldn't call it good."

Isran waved a hand in the air, annoyed. "Of course. Why did I suppose differently. Fine, tell me what you know."

They stopped on the steps beneath the torches that lit the fort. "The vampires were looking for a woman trapped in Dimhollow," Desmond said, fidgeting uncomfortably.

"A woman? Trapped in there?" Isran looked genuinely surprised. "That doesn't make any sense. Who is she?"

"She's the daughter of a powerful vampire lord."

"Where is she now?"

Desmond cringed.

"...You delivered her to them?"

"Hey! What else was I supposed to do?" Desmond snapped. "Tolan went in without me, so it was me against an entire fort of vampires!"

"Tolan didn't make it?" Isran sighed knowingly. "I expected as much."

"So now the vampires have an Elder Scroll," Desmond added quickly.

"They _what?"_ Isran demanded. "You didn't stop them? You didn't secure the Scroll?"

"HEY," Desmond repeated, holding up his injured hand to show the blackened scar that stretched over the center of his palm. "I wasn't winning any fights with this! There was a whole castle's worth of them and only one of me, what else was I supposed to do?"

Isran crossed his arms, glowering fiercely. "So they have everything they wanted, and we're left with nothing. By the Divines, this couldn't get much worse... this is more than you and I can handle."

"What about...?" Desmond looked to the doors of the fort, wondering how many people had joined in the time he'd been gone. Had _anyone_ joined up? "...Ok, so what do we do? Elder Scrolls are serious, we have to do something."

"Well, of course we do. I'm old, not stupid," Isran said. "We're just going to need some help. If they're bold enough to attack us here, then this may be bigger than I thought. I have good men in here, but..."

They fell silent, pensive. "Who do we go to?" Desmond asked. "Do we keep recruiting?"

"There are people I've met and worked with over the years," Isran told him. "We need their skills, their talents if we're going to survive this. If you can find them, we might have a chance."

"Leave it to me. Where do I look?"

Isran cracked a small smile. "Right to the point, aren't you? I like that. Not like those fools in the Order."

Desmond pushed open the door to the fort, heading inside. It was just as dusty and dismal as he remembered it. A few more people were milling about, but certainly nowhere near enough to take on that castle full to bursting with vampires.

"We should keep it small," Isran said, leading him towards a table set with a collection of mismatched plates and goblets. Someone was boiling stew in a pot over the fire. "I think we'll want Sorine Jurard. Breton girl, whip-smart and good with tinkering. Fascination with the Dwemer, weapons in particular."

"Sounds good. Where is she?" Desmond asked, sitting down at the table across from Isran.

"Last I knew, she was out in the Reach, convinced she was about to find the biggest Dwarven ruins yet."

"And she'll help us?"

Isran hesitated. "Might need a little convincing."

Desmond rolled his eyes. "Fine. Who else?"

"You'll also want to find Gunmar. Big brute of a Nord, hates vampires almost as much as I do."

Desmond grinned widely, accepting a bowl of stew from the woman who was cooking. Other men and women trickled in, picking up various scraps of food for their own dinners. "Gunmar sounds like my kinda guy."

"Got it into his head years back that his experience with animals would help. Trolls in particular, from what I hear."

Desmond's smile dimmed. "...Oh."

"Last I knew, he was out scouring Skyrim for more beasts to tame. Heard he was somewhere in the south, near Falkreath."

"Great."

"Stay the night here and rest up before you head out," Isran said. "You'll be safer here than anywhere out there. Bring the two of them back, and we can get started coming up with a plan."

Desmond nodded, looking around the table. Definitely far fewer people than he'd hoped. Perhaps the Dawnguard was doomed to fail this battle. They were a ragtag bunch, maybe not _weak_ by any visible means... at least, not all of them. He fidgeted with nervous energy, silence around other people tended to make him anxious.

"Why did you join the Dawnguard?" he asked the Orc he had seen when he first arrived at the fort.

"I lost two wives to vampires," said the Orc. "I will avenge them. It's good to know that I will not do it alone—I am glad this Dawnguard exists."

Desmond nodded appreciatively. "I lost someone too, I want those vampires dead. Why'd you join up?" he asked the brunette Nord who had made the stew.

"Something bad happens, word spreads," she said, sitting down with her own bowl. "More bad things happen, people worry. The more they worry, the more they talk about it. I've been hearing rumours for a bit now... I was glad to find out not only the bad rumours were true."

Desmond grinned. "Yeah. At least now we can pull together and do something about it."

"I've heard the rumours around Skyrim, too," Agmaer said, from further down the table. He wore armor, a clear change from his farming garb. "I know something's going on, and I've seen the vampires."

"Is that why you came to join us?" the brunette asked.

"Yeah. I felt I had two choices: I could either live in fear of the night, or I could do something to protect my people."

Desmond beamed at him. "Glad you showed up."

"You're all green," Isran said judgmentally. "You haven't been fighting vampires for long, you don't know what you're doing yet."

"Any advice for all us new hunters, then?" Desmond asked.

Isran sat back, crossing his arms on the table. "There's only one thing worth remembering. When it comes to vampires, if you're sloppy, or careless, you're dead. And good people will die because of you."

The room fell silent, the mood dampened.

"I've lasted this long because I don't take any chances," Isran said. "I cover my tracks and I keep my eyes open. If you're smart, you'll do the same."

* * *

Helgen was deserted. The rubble had not been touched, wood and stone scorched and littering the ground. Desmond kicked a stone along the path leading through the town, looking up to the tower that still somehow stood. Nearly a year since he'd set foot here and gone running out again, chased by a dragon. _The_ dragon. Alduin.

At least the dragons weren't following him around anymore.

He paused for a moment, staring up at the sky. Perhaps he ought to swing up by Heljarachen again, it seemed like Dawnstar was _always_ getting hit by dragons. Crazy old man probably didn't even have anything protecting the house. Then again, Heljarchen was a bit closer to Whiterun than it was to Dawnstar. Maybe it would be safe, out there in the middle of nowhere...

Desmond kicked his stone down the path, following the road out of Helgen in his search for the troll-tamer.

* * *

Sky Haven Temple was just as dim and dusty as he remembered it. Were Delphine and Esbern still here? This was a mistake, it felt like a mistake. He should have just gone straight from Falkreath to Markarth and gotten Sorine, there was no reason for him to be mucking about with old contacts. What was the point?

"Anyone home?" he called, his voice echoing around the empty temple.

There was a scratching sound of wooden chair legs on the stone floor. Delphine and Esbern had both gotten up from the table that sat near to Alduin's Wall.

"Where have you been?" Esbern asked. It wasn't an attack, merely a question.

"Doing stuff," Desmond said simply. "Got some business in the Reach. Thought I'd stop by, see if you survived the dragons."

"Please... Delphine has been very worried about you," Esbern said quietly.

"We heard the news from Whiterun," Delphine said. She looked shocked, even scared, as much as her stoic demeanor would allow. "Martin left the city on the back of a dragon?"

"Yeah, that was... that was a while ago," Desmond said.

"That's a little... showy, for him."

Desmond laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, I was there, it was nuts. He called a dragon and it flew him off to the east."

"Since you're alive, I assume you have good news to report?"

Desmond soured almost immediately. "I'm not your soldier, I don't answer to you."

"But you _did_ come back here."

He glared at her. "Yeah. Martin went to Sovngarde and killed Alduin, so we're all good."

"He's done it?" Esbern asked.

"Yeah."

"Gods above." Delphine gave a little sigh, her shoulders relaxing a little. "That's better news than I had hoped."

"Took him long enough," Desmond added. "It was _weeks_ before he showed back up in Whiterun again, we all thought he'd died."

"Just as the prophecy said," Esbern breathed, clasping his hands together. "I knew he would do it, I believed in you both, and yet... I still didn't think I'd live to see this day."

"Yeah, well. It was kind of a while ago," Desmond said again. "...Last year."

"When you two walked into my inn that day, soaked to the bone and way out of your element, I never could have imagined where it would all lead." Delphine shook her head, chuckling. "Dragons from legend... Sovngarde..."

"Martin's done a great service for us all," Esbern remarked. "And—"

"Well, you know—"

"No, I _do_ know—"

Desmond sighed, turning to leave as the two Blades began to bicker with each other. Such the better—with the two of them duly informed, they could close the book on the Blades entirely.

"There's still the matter of Paarthurnax, though." Delphine had raised her voice ever so slightly, as if to make sure Desmond heard her. He sighed heavily, hanging his head for a moment.

"Are you _really_ going to try to rope me back into this?" he asked, turning back around and crossing his arms. "You know where I stand."

"Yes, but I don't understand why."

"I trust Martin. And after talking with Paarthurnax, I see why he does," Desmond said firmly.

"But do _you_ trust _Paarthurnax?"_

Desmond paused. "I'm not the ultimate dragonslayer, now am I?" he pointed out. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter what I think, because I'm not the one who can kill him."

"I'm not ungrateful for what he's done. For what you've both done," Delphine said quickly. "Esbern speaks for both of us there. But our oath as Blades binds us. Paarthurnax must die. There's no excuse now that Alduin is dead."

Esbern nodded vigorously. "The end of Alduin heralds a time of peace, I am sure of it, but I'm afraid she's right."

_"I'm_ afraid I don't see eye to eye with you on this," Desmond said pointedly.

"I'm deeply sorry that this has to come between us." Esbern shifted uneasily, but his eyes were firmly set on Desmond. "But just as Paarthurnax's later deeds do not allow us to expiate his crimes, Martin's deeds do not allow us to ignore our duty. I hope you will return to us soon, with the news that justice has finally been done."

"You seem to think I'll be coming back." Desmond scowled at them, beginning to regret coming here in the first place. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that Paarthurnax is an ally?"

"Because he's not," Delphine insisted.

"With both Alduin and Paarthurnax dead, a dark chapter in history will finally be closed," Esbern said. "I trust you'll pass this on to Martin?"

"I doubt either of us will be doing anything about it, so no," Desmond said, shaking his head. "If you want to bother him about it again, you'll have to take it up with him."

"Where is he?" Delphine asked.

"Somewhere out in Morrowind by now."

Esbern eyed him suspiciously. "What in the world is he doing in Morrowind? Why isn't he with you?"

"Because we _both_ have better things to do than kill a dragon you don't like!" Desmond told him. "Paarthurnax has proven himself more loyal than either of you. If you want him dead, you're on your own. And you'll have to get through five of us to get to Paarthurnax, so—"

"Five?" Delphine asked, confused.

Desmond grinned smugly, turning to leave Sky Haven Temple for good. "It's amazing what you miss, holing up in a cave and refusing to do your own work."

* * *

"Make love like a sabrecat, or crush your enemies into dust like a giant!"

Desmond burst out laughing, trading a pair of bracers to Grelka for something new before he headed back to Fort Dawnguard.

"What's so damn funny?" Grelka demanded.

"Nothing. Thanks," he said, still grinning widely.

"Whatever. Come back when you're ready to spend more gold."

Desmond shook his head, strapping on his new bracers. "Bryn, are you _still_ hawking that sugar water?"

"Hush up, lad." Brynjolf glared at him. "I might actually sell something."

"C'mon, Brynjolf." Desmond leaned on the counter of Brynjolf's stall, peering down at the bottles he had for sale. He picked one up, examining it. "I don't care _what_ it does, no one wants to drink snow elf blood."

"Don't knock it till you've tried it," Brynjolf said, plucking the bottle out of Desmond's hand. "Might get you in with the ladies."

Desmond sighed over-dramatically. "I don't _want_ to get in with the ladies."

Brynjolf rolled his eyes, stacking the bottles behind a cupboard door. "Fine, then. Suit yourself."

"How've you been?"

"Been better." Brynjolf locked the cupboard and reached up to hit the awning of his stall. "Old stand's seen better days than this."

"I think this whole _town's_ seen better days," Desmond commented dully. The little market was desperately empty of customers. As much as he hoped it was because of the early hour, Desmond knew better.

"That's for certain." Brynjolf clapped him on the back, grinning cheerily through the dismal air of Riften. "But look at you! Keeping busy fighting off your monsters?"

"Dragons."

_"Vampires_, from what I hear."

Desmond nodded, letting Brynjolf guide him at random through the streets. "Yeah. Vampires, too," he said.

"Run out of things to do, yet?"

"Not yet."

"Let me know when you do. Or if you're ever a bit light in the pockets." Brynjolf cast a pointed glance towards the creaking wooden steps that led down to the Ratway, and the Ragged Flagon. "We'd love to have you."

Desmond paused, and shook his head. "Nah. Thieving's not for me," he admitted. "I'd rather get my gold off a dead bandit than a live merchant."

Brynjolf laughed. "You say that now, but—"

"If I ever change my mind, I know where you are," Desmond said, waving as he turned to leave. "You're never too far from here."

* * *

Isran had put up more barricades around the fort by the time Desmond returned. There was even a rickety-looking wooden gate, flimsy and guarded by one lonely woman with a crossbow. Desmond waved to her as he passed by, counting the people he saw on the way in. Someone was recruiting, still... and it seemed to be paying off, however slowly.

The main hall was still dim and dusty, and Gunmar and Sorine were already there. Sorine gave a little wave as Desmond came in, fidgeting nervously as metal gates rose to block the three of them in the hall.

"Have you seen—"

Gunmar elbowed him, staring up at the balcony over the hall. A figure with a battleaxe stood over them, presumably Isran.

"All right, Isran," Gunmar said, unimpressed. "You've got us all here. Now what do you want?"

"Hold it right there."

Sunlight shone in from high above, bringing an oppressive heat and brightness into the main hall. Desmond shielded his eyes from the stream of light, annoyed.

"What are you doing?" Sorine asked.

"Making sure you're not vampires. Can't be too careful." Isran halted the beam of sunlight, leaning forward on the balcony to speak to them. "So, welcome to Fort Dawnguard."

"Cozy little place, isn't this?" Gunmar said dismally.

"I'm sure you've heard a bit of what we're up against," Isran went on, appearing not to have heard Gunmar. "Powerful vampires, unlike anything we've seen before. And they have an Elder Scroll."

"So we've heard."

"If anyone is going to stand in their way, it's going to be us."

"Fine. This is all well and good, but do we actually know anything about what they're doing?" Sorine asked anxiously. "What do we do now?"

"We'll get to that. For now, get acquainted with the space."

Desmond leaned back against a pile of boxes, waiting for Isran to lower the gates so he could find someone pleasant to talk to and perhaps get more work from. Maybe Agmaer or Celann would be interested in some dungeon diving...

"In the meantime, boy." Isran leaned a bit further over the railing, glaring down at Desmond. "We're going to get to the bottom of why a vampire showed up here, looking for you."

"...Wait, what?"

"Get up here. Let's go have a little chat with it, shall we?"

The gates came down, bit by creaking, rusted bit. Desmond's mind ran a mile a minute, trying to think of what could have led a vampire here. Had one of them followed him from Castle Volkihar? Did the vampire lord's spell leave some sort of beacon on him that they could track and follow? How—who—?

He mounted the stairs and followed Isran to a small room Desmond had not seen before. Almost immediately after rounding the corner, Desmond ducked back behind the wall, swearing animatedly to himself for a solid minute.

Serana stood alone in the room, looking uncomfortable and nervous.

"This vampire shoewd up while you were away," Isran told him. "I'm guessing it's the one you found in Dimhollow Crypt."

"Yeah."

"Says it's got something really important to say to you. So... let's hear it." Isran leaned back against the wall, staring Serana down.

"You probably weren't expecting to see me again," Serana said awkwardly.

Desmond stared, dumbfounded. Her arms were crossed, her nails digging into the pads of the leather armor she wore. The Elder Scroll still hung on her back. "What... yeah, no, what are you doing here? How did you—"

"Well, you said you were outnumbered at my place, so I figured I'd skip over here to experience the feeling myself." Serana shrugged. "You know. For _fun."_

Desmond glared at her. "What in Oblivion are you doing here?"

"I'd rather not be here either, but I needed to talk to you," she said. "It's important, so please, just... listen, before your friend here loses his patience."

"What's the deal?" Desmond kept his distance from her all the same, cautious cut curious.

"It's... well, it's about me. And the Elder Scroll that was buried with me."

"Ok. So... what's up?" he repeated. Something about this encounter wasn't sitting right with him.

"I'm guessing you figured this part out already, but my father's not exactly a good person," Serana said dryly. "Even by vampire standards."

"I figured."

"He wasn't always like that though. There was..." She broke off, frowning. "There was a turn. He stumbled onto this obscure prophecy, and just kind of lost himself in it."

"What do you mean, he 'lost himself'?" Desmond asked.

"He just became absorbed. Obsessed. It was kind of sick, actually." Serana shifted her weight between her feet, Isran's piercing glare still trained on her. "The prophecy said that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun. For someone who fancied himself as vampire royalty, that's pretty seductive."

Desmond hesitated, thinking. Prophecies were far out of his area of expertise, but if it were true... "What sorta prophecy?" he asked.

"It's pointless and vague, like all prophecies," Serana assured him. "The part he latched onto was the part that said vampires would no longer need to fear the sun."

"Yeah. That sounds dangerous."

"That's what he's after. He wants the control the sun, have vampires control the world."

Desmond rubbed the back of his neck, still frowning hard. "That'd make our jobs a lot harder."

"...Anyway," Serana went on, "my mother and I didn't feel like inviting a war with all of Tamriel, so we tried to stop him. That's why I was sealed away with the Scroll."

"What's the Scroll got to do with it?"

"It doesn't matter," Serana said quickly. "Not really, I mean—"

"I think it does," Desmond shot back.

"No one here can read it, anyway, that's not the point!"

"Why did you even come here if you were just gonna be cryptic and bizarre?" he demanded.

Serana glowered at him, hands on her hips. "I'm sorry, I had heard there were _vampire hunters_ here," she said accusingly. "I thought they might want to know about a vampire plot to enslave the rest of the world. Am I wrong?"

"Wha—_no_, but—!" Desmond took a breath, caught off-guard. "You took a _huge_ risk coming here, presumably on your own—"

"How stupid do you think I am? I didn't bring any of my father's underlings on my way to subvert him," she snapped.

"What makes you think we can help?"

"Something about you makes me think I can trust you." Serana watched him carefully, still on edge. "I hope I'm not wrong."

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "You want us to help you?"

"That was the plan, yes. Assuming the rest of them can trust a vampire."

"What's to say _I_ trust you?" Desmond asked.

"Nothing," she said immediately. "But you can't afford not to take me seriously, can you?"

Desmond frowned at her, uncomfortable.

"Come on," Serana said pleadingly. "Let me prove I'm an ally."

Isran cleared his throat, still leaning against the wall. "Give me a reason I shouldn't kill this bloodsucking fiend right now."

Desmond paused, sizing up his choices. On the one hand, Serana was distracting them from... something. On the other hand, Serana was tipping them off to something, and something bad. And if she really was on their side...

Finally, he hung his head, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. "Because we need her help," he said reluctantly.

"Why?" Isran demanded. "Because of that story about the prophecy, about some vampire trying to put the sun out? Do you _actually believe_ any of that?"

"Why else would she risk her neck coming in here?" Desmond snapped. "She's alone, she's basically unarmed—"

"Who knows, maybe it has a death wish," Isran scoffed. "Maybe it's just insane. I don't really care."

"I didn't see _any _vampires on my way in here," Desmond said. "She's alone, she didn't bring the rest of the castle. This isn't an ambush, and if it is, it's cleverer than we are."

Isran scowled at him. "We have good eyes watching the gate."

"Right. So she's alone," Desmond rationalized. "She brought the Elder Scroll, so we know it's not with them. Even if this prophecy's all hot air, if we keep her here, we can at least make sure the vampires don't have an Elder Scroll."

Isran's scowl did not lighten. "It can stay for now," he said he was a hair's length away from ordering the rest of the fort to come down on Serana's head. "But if it so much as lays a finger on anyone here, I'll hold _you_ responsible. Got it, boy?"

Desmond swore, turning around to hit his head against the wall. "Fine," he grumbled into the stone. "This better be worth it."

"You hear me?" Isran spat at Serana. "Don't feel like a guest, because you're not. You're a resource. You're an asset. And in the meantime, don't make me regret my sudden outburst of tolerance and generosity, because if you do, your friend here is going to pay for it."

"Thank you for your kindness," Serana said venomously. "I'll remember it the next time I'm feeling hungry."

"GROUND RULES," Desmond said loudly, turning around from the wall. "First. You talk about eating people, we're done."

"We've been over this, I don't eat people," Serana reminded him.

"I don't care. You talk about whatever it is you eat, drink, _whatever_, we're done," Desmond said. "Second—"

"You're in no position to be making ultimatums!" Serana shouted.

"Are you in a position that you can refuse them?" Desmond shot back.

Serana fell silent, glowering at him again.

"Second," he said again. "Weapons. Hand 'em over."

"You've seen me fight and I've seen you shoot," Serana said. "I'm keeping my knife, not that I need it."

"If you don't need it, hand it over," Desmond said firmly.

"It's _mine."_

"Not here, it's not."

Serana narrowed her eyes, turning over the elven dagger she kept at her waist.

"Third," Desmond said. "Elder Scroll stays with me."

"It's mine!"

"Not here, it's not!"

"What do you need it for, anyhow?" Serana demanded, her voice gone up an octave in panic.

"What do _you_ need it for?"

"Whatever it says, it will have something that can help us stop my father," Serana said. "But no one can read it!"

"So hand it over!"

Serana crossed her arms, fuming. "Aren't you going to ask me who _can_ read it?"

"Buddy of mine read an Elder Scroll a while back," Desmond said. "You know, like you do."

"You know a Moth Priest?" Serana asked, surprised.

"What's a Moth Priest?"

"Oh, gods." Serana raised a hand to her head, sighing deeply. "This is going to be a mess."

"What in Oblivion's a Moth Priest?" Desmond asked again.

"Moth Priests spend years preparing to read Elder Scrolls," Serana said. "Not that it helps us, because they're all half a continent away in Cyrodiil."

"Then why'd you even bring it up?"

Isran cleared his throat again, drawing their attention. "Some Imperial scholar arrived in Skyrim a few days ago," he said. "I was staking out the road when I saw him pass by. Maybe that's your Moth Priest friend."

"My friend's not a Moth Priest," Desmond corrected.

"Whatever."

"Do you know where he is now?" Serana asked Isran.

"No, and I'm not going to waste men looking," Isran said fiercely.

"Fine. We'll find him ourselves." Serana crossed her arms, drawing herself up tall. "Right?"

_"Don't_ be volunteering me for stuff!" Desmond snapped.

"She's your problem," Isran reminded him. Desmond grumbled incoherently, letting his head fall back against a shelf. "You want to find him, try talking to anyone who'd meet a traveler. Innkeepers and carriage drivers in the big cities, maybe."

"Skyrim's a pretty big place... he could have gone anywhere in a few days," Serana mused. "Any ideas?"

"Where would a Moth Priest even go?" Desmond asked, staring at the ceiling with the back of his head still against the shelf. "What's interesting in Skyrim?"

"Well, back before I... you know," Serana said pointedly. "The College of Winterhold was the first place I'd think to go for any kind of magic or historical thing. The wizards know about all kinds of things that people probably shouldn't know about."

Desmond's mouth twitched into a small smile. "Sounds about right."

"I'm going to come along with you," Serana said decisively. "I've been really wanting to get out and explore a bit."

"You just want to come so I'll give you your _knife_ back."

"It's a plus, yeah."

Desmond stood up straight, narrowing his eyes at her. "Ground rules still stand. And if your teeth get within arm's reach of me, I shoot."


	4. Allies

**Allies**

"So what's the plan?" Serana asked.

"We talk to people in town," Desmond said. "Innkeepers and such. Then we talk to the carriage driver, and from there we go either to Winterhold or to wherever they say."

"Why not just start at Winterhold?" Serana asked. "That seems easier."

"I'm not going to Winterhold if I can help it," Desmond said.

"Why?"

"I don't need to justify myself to you."

Serana caught up with him at the gates to Riften, glowering at him. "You an ex-student? Blow something up?"

"Hardly."

"What've you got against magic?"

"Nothing!" he snapped, shouldering his way through the doors.

"So let's go to Winterhold."

Desmond whipped around to face her, glaring and angry. "If I have to deal with your Elder Scroll, we're doing it my way. You can go to Winterhold on your own if you want, enjoy the walk th—"

Serana cut him off with a glare. "Fine."

Desmond headed straight for the Bee and Barb, looking for Keerava. Serana followed him in, skulking behind him. A priest from the Temple of Mara was speaking to the tavern at large while Talen-Jei tried to toss him out. People milling around did not seem to care what Maramal had to say, too busy with their food and drink to listen.

"Afternoon, Keerava." Desmond reached the counter, knocking on the solid wood surface. "How are you?"

"Looking for a place to stay?" Keerava looked up from where she was polishing glasses and goblets. "What can I get you?"

"You heard anything about a Moth Priest passing through?"

Keerava shook her head, returning to her cleaning. "Nah. I don't think so."

Desmond blinked. "That was... thanks."

"Why did you think Riften would know anything?" Serana asked him as they wove back through the crowded room to the door. "That didn't help at all."

"Riften's one of the first cities people run into when they come up from Cyrodiil," Desmond told her. "That or Falkreath. We could try there next."

"We could try _Winterhold,"_ Serana grumbled, following him into the streets.

"Look, Winterhold and I aren't exactly on the best of terms," he said, avoiding a deviously grinning Brynjolf and yanking Serana towards the gates of Riften. "It's a long story."

Serana snickered. "Right."

"What?" he demanded.

"You're like... no. Never mind, forget it." She shook her head, laughing at whatever joke she refused to share.

Desmond scowled at her, passing by the stables and approaching the man in charge of the carriage. "Just... shut up. This is gonna be long trip, wherever we end up going."

"Need a ride?" Sigaar held the reins of the carriage in hand, hoisting himself up into the driver's seat. "Where do you want to go?"

"You seen a Moth Priest?" Desmond asked, looking up at him and shielding his eyes from the midday sun.

"That's one of them Imperial scholars, right?" Sigaar asked. "Old man with a grey robe?"

"Sounds about right. You seen one?"

Sigaar shrugged. "Might be that I have, but I can't say for sure. I got enough troubles on my mind just trying to scrape by out here."

"Don't we all." Desmond reached in his bag, pulling out a handful of gold. "Will this ease your mind?"

Sigaar's face lit up. "Ah. Yes. I remember your Moth Priest now," he said. "Wanted me to take him out to Dragon Bridge, but I told him it ain't one of my stops."

"Which answers my next question." Desmond passed the driver the handful of gold, thinking.

"Where's Dragon Bridge?" Serana asked. Desmond yanked his map out of his bag.

"It's... near Solitude," he said. "We can hitch a ride there and walk the rest of the way, it'd be better than just walking from here. The sooner we get to him, the sooner we can stop him from running into someone unfriendly."

"What do you say?" Serana asked the carriage driver. "Two for Solitude?"

"Climb in back and we'll be off."

* * *

"What do you know about Elder Scrolls?" Desmond asked.

Serana edged back in her seat, keeping her Scroll well behind her and out of his reach. "I mean... as much as anyone," she said. "Not a lot. You'd figure a couple hundred years locked away with one would have given me some insight, but no. Turns out you don't learn much from just sleeping with something."

Desmond raised an eyebrow. "Right. Let's just... let's find the Moth Priest."

"I guess."

They fell silent for a moment, the wheels of the carriage kicking up gravel as they rolled along towards the east. Desmond fell back into his spellbook, throwing up a little ball of candlelight to read by.

"So explain something to me," Serana said.

"Hm?" Desmond looked up from his book. "What?"

"How did you end up doing all the legwork for the Dawnguard? You're, like, twelve."

"I'm eighteen."

"Isran is three times your age, half the people in that fort could have _kids_ as old as you. Why are you doing all the work?"

Desmond shrugged. "I want to."

"Why? Shouldn't you be practicing on dummies or something?"

"Shouldn't you be snoozing in a coffin?" he spat at her.

"Rude."

_"You're_ rude."

"Very mature."

"Shut up." Desmond retreated further into his spellbook for a moment, then slammed it shut, his candlelight fading. "You know what, no, _you_ explain something to me."

"What?"

"Why in Oblivion are you helping _us_ if your father is the one with the plan?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be helping your own?"

"What are you saying?" she demanded. "That it's wrong for _me_ to kill other vampires, but it's totally fine if _you_ do it?"

"Wha—"

"You kill other humans, don't you?" Serana shot at him.

"Well... yeah, but—"

"But nothing." She crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Vampires were mortals first, you know. Just because we share bloodthirst doesn't mean we're all alike. I'm proving my allegiance here, aren't I?"

Desmond threw up another ball of light, rubbing his eyes. "Fine. Whatever."

"Shouldn't you sleep?" Serana asked as he flipped open his book again.

"Sleep is for the weak," Desmond mumbled, finding his place again.

* * *

The road west was beginning to lighten as Desmond and Serana headed west over the Dragon Bridge, where a small child had pointed them. Serana pulled her hood lower over her face, shielding her skin against the sun.

"Need a break?" Desmond asked.

"I'm fine." Serana shrugged her shoulders. "I've seen worse sun than this."

Desmond shrugged as well, unwilling to press the subject once he saw an overturned carriage. He broke into a run, passing by two dead bodies and the still-bleeding body of a dead horse.

"Someone beat us to it." Serana surveyed the damage, ransacking the carriage and the pockets of one of the dead men. Desmond rifled through the other, finding a note.

"Who's Malkus?"

She looked over his shoulder at the note. "Son of a... Forebear's Holdout, huh?"

Desmond stood up, pocketing the note. "You know where that is?"

Serana shook her head. "But it's a safe bet that we can follow the blood."

Desmond loaded his crossbow and followed Serana, looking back over his shoulder at the carriage. That had been recent, they couldn't be far.

"In here," Serana said, looking around the mouth of a cave. "I'd be ready for anything."

"Expect the worst, I know." Desmond led the way inside, scanning the stone and water within.

Bloody bones were piled around a bonfire, a pair of smoking black dogs patrolling near the entrance of the cave. He sniped them off as quickly as he could, alerting a nearby vampire to their arrival. Serana fired off a spear of ice, overbalancing the vampire into the waterfall.

"Listen." Desmond strained his ears, trying to hear over the crashing water. Someone was speaking, and someone was responding, but it was impossible to hear clearly.

"Get closer. That's him," Serana whispered.

They crept up the stone steps, peeking through the collapsed stone wall and seeing a whirling mass of magic, surrounding a vampire and, sure enough, an old man in a grey robe.

"Hit him!" Serana shouted, sprinting forward while Desmond was still aiming.

"DAMN IT, SERA—"

Malkus came after them, shouting and throwing red sparks at them. Desmond fired, burying a bolt in Malkus's shin. Serana pitched a spear of ice, pinning Malkus against the wall. The vampire slid down to lay on the floor, and did not get up again.

"How do we make this stop?" Desmond shouted over the wind and noise the whirling magic produced.

Serana dug through Malkus's pockets and tossed him a heavy stone teardrop, glowing with runes. Desmond stared at it, confused. How was this going to help them get the priest out of there?

"What in Oblivion do I—"

"Up there!"

"Wha—"

"The glowing thing!" she yelled. "Put it in the glowing stone!"

Desmond sprinted up the stairs towards a similarly glowing stone structure. Far be it from him to figure out how precisely it worked, leave that to someone who wondered or cared. He shoved the teardrop stone into a hole in the top, the wind around them slowing as the magic vanished. The Moth Priest was hunched over on the ground, shaking.

Serana held out a hand to him. "Hey. We're not going to hurt you—"

"I serve my master's will. But my master is dead and his enemies will pay!"

The priest shot to his feet, flames in his hands. Serana staggered backwards, retaliating with magic of her own. Desmond took a shot from the stone steps, piercing the priest cleanly through the shoulder.

"Don't kill him!" Serana shouted, forcing the priest to his knees with a solid stream of ice.

"Wait! Stop, _stop!"_

Desmond came running down the steps, the priest falling back to sit against the stone walls.

"I yield," he said, panting. "That wasn't me you were fighting. I could see through my eyes, but I could not control my actions."

"I had a feeling," Serana said, watching Desmond hit the ground beside the priest and dig in his bag for potions.

"Thank you for breaking that foul vampire's hold over me," said the priest, gladly accepting what Desmond gave him and drinking it down.

"Not a bother. Are you all right?" Desmond asked, carefully pulling the bolt from the priest's shoulder. The priest yelled, but the wound did not bleed.

"I, I'm quite all right, thank you," the priest choked out, taking another potion. "Dexion Evicus is my name. I'm a Moth Priest of the White-Gold Tower. These vampires claimed they had some purpose in store for me, but they wouldn't say what." He swallowed another mouthful of bitter potion, pulling a face as he did. "Probably hoping to ransom me, the fools," he spat.

"No. I know why they needed you," Desmond said. "We need you for the same thing."

"You do? All right then, enough mysteries."

"We are the Dawnguard, and we need you to read an Elder Scroll," Desmond told him.

"You have an Elder Scroll?" Dexion asked. Serana turned a bit to the side, showing him the Scroll. "Remarkable. If my knowledge of history serves me, I recall that the Dawnguard was an ancient order of vampire hunters?"

Desmond nodded. "That's us."

"Well, excellent." Dexion shoved himself to his feet, wobbling a bit and steadying himself against the wall. "I will be happy to assist you with your Elder Scroll. Just tell me where I need to go."

"Fort Dawnguard, near Stendarr's Beacon," Serana said.

"We can take you there, we're heading back ourselves," Desmond added.

"I would much appreciate that. We should hurry on the way before more of those vampires turn up."

Desmond offered the old man his arm to support him out of the cave. "The sooner we get to Fort Dawnguard, the safer you'll be."

* * *

Desmond had woken up just as the carriage reached Riften. He had convinced himself that a nap was in order, and had somehow managed to sleep through the whole trip. On the walk up to the fort, he surreptitiously turned his head side to side. To his relief, he felt no bites or other injuries.

"I didn't eat you," Serana said quietly. "Promise."

"Much appreciated," he said, feeling slightly guilty. "Let's get Dexion inside."

Isran stood waiting in the middle of the entry hall, looking more shocked than impressed as Dexion walked in with them.

"I'm surprised you could find a Moth Priest so quickly," he said.

"Just gotta know who to ask," Desmond said, leaving his bow and bag on a crate by the door. He stretched, still not entirely awake. "Everything all right here?"

"Nothing's changed. Vampires still attacking all over Skyrim. This had better be worth it," Isran warned him quietly.

"If it's not, believe me, I'm gonna be upset, too. But at least the vampires don't have a Moth Priest." Desmond raised his voice as Serana passed Dexion the Elder Scroll. "Is everything set?"

"Oh, most certainly!" Dexion held the Elder Scroll, an almost childish excitement on his face as he looked it over. "Let's find out what secrets the Scroll can tell. Now, if everyone will please be quiet..."

Desmond sat down on a crate in the hall, Serana stepping back to stand beside him to watch Dexion unfurl the Scroll. Other members of the Dawnguard lingered in the halls to listen, some looking down from the balcony above as Dexion began to speak.

"I see a vision before me, an image of a great bow. I know this weapon! It is Auriel's Bow! Now a voice whispers, saying 'Among the night's children, a dread lord will rise.' In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one. The voice fades and the words begin to shimmer and distort. But wait, there is more here. The secret of the Bow's power is written elsewhere. I think there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other Scrolls."

Desmond did his best to suppress a heavy sigh. Other Scrolls? He knew of only one. How many others _were_ there?

"Yes, I see them now... one contains the ancient secrets of the dragons, and the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood. My vision darkens, and I see no more. To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two Scrolls."

Dexion rolled the Scroll back up, teetering a bit on his feet. Isran stepped forward, a guiding hand out to Dexion to latch on to.

"I must rest now. The reading has made me weary," Dexion mumbled.

"Come on, old man. You should get some rest," said Isran, an unfamiliar kindness in his voice.

The two of them left the hall, Isran guiding Dexion to the sleeping quarters. Desmond hopped off his crate, not entirely pleased with what he'd heard. The silence in Fort Dawnguard gradually gave way to the low hum of chatter all around as everyone returned to their own business.

"Hey." Serana turned to him, her brow furrowed. "Do you have a moment to talk?"

"Yeah. What's up?"

"Dexion said we needed two other Elder Scrolls. I think I know where we can start looking."

Desmond blinked. "Ok? Why didn't you say it when everyone was around, we could all have brainstormed."

"Half the people in your little crew would just as soon kill me as talk to me. That doesn't exactly make me want to open up." She shrugged. "I got a warmer welcome from my father, and that's saying something."

Desmond sighed, nodding. "Fair. What _is_ it with you two?"

"Ever since he decided to make that prophecy his calling, we've kind of drifted apart. I don't even think he sees me as his daughter anymore." She let her hands fall to her sides. "I'm just a means to an end."

He scowled. "So let's keep him from the end. Where's your next Elder Scroll?"

"We need to find my mother, Valerica. She'll definitely know where it is, and if we're lucky, she actually has it herself."

Desmond looked around the hall. Sorine and Gunmar passed through the hallway, talking and arguing. "I thought you said you didn't know where she went?" he asked quietly.

"The last time I saw her, she said that she'd go somewhere safe, somewhere my father would never search. Other than that, she wouldn't tell me anything," Serana said.

"That doesn't—"

"But the way she said it, _someplace he would never search_... It was cryptic, yet she called attention to it."

"It sounds like she was being cautious, too."

She shrugged again. "Maybe. What I can't figure out is _why_ she said it that way. Besides, I can't imagine a single place my father would avoid looking, and he's had all this time, too."

Desmond ran a hand through his hair, scrunching up his face. "It _does_ sound like he's had an awful lot of time to scour every inch of Skyrim."

"Any ideas?"

"Sealed away like you, maybe? I mean, he did leave _you_ there for hundreds of years, too," he pointed out.

Serana shook her head. "I don't think so. She said she wanted to stay awake in case the situation was resolved. It had to be one of us, and, well... she's so much more powerful than I am. It just made more sense for her to be out here."

"Maybe she's in Castle Volkihar," he threw out, half-serious. "I mean, that place is HUGE."

There was a pause. Serana frowned. "Wait, that almost makes sense."

"What? I was kidding."

"Well, I'm not. There's a courtyard in the castle. I used to help her tend a garden there," Serana said, gaining steam. "All of the ingredients for our potions came from there. She used to say my father couldn't stand the place. Too... peaceful."

At this, Desmond laughed. "I wouldn't put it past him to never sniff a flower." Serana laughed in kind. "But isn't that risky, staying in the castle?" he asked.

"Oh, _absolutely_. But my mother's not a coward. That is... I don't think we'll actually trip over her there," she clarified, "but it's worth a look."

Desmond crossed his arms, thinking of what it would take to return to Castle Volkihar. Of everywhere in Skyrim, the castle full to bursting of vampires was definitely the last place he'd wanted to go back to. "They're not going to let us use the front door," he said. "Not me, at least."

"True. But I know a way we can get to the courtyard without arousing suspicion. There's an unused inlet on the northern side of the island that was used by the previous owners to bring supplies into the castle," Serana told him. "An old escape tunnel from in the castle exits there. I think that's our way in."

"Sure. We go in, we get the Scroll, and then we can end this."

"But we'll still be one Scroll short," she pointed out. "We can't end it until we have both."

"Don't worry," Desmond said, picking up his bag and hanging his crossbow on his back again.

"Don't—? Look, I think we got pretty lucky with Dexion," Serana said. "Finding another Elder Scroll isn't going to be so easy."

"Trust me—"

"Do you have a moment?" Sorine had approached them while they were talking.

"Huh? Yeah, what's up?"

"I saw you were heading out, and I wanted to catch you," Sorine said, wringing her hands. "Gunmar and I have been talking, and well, we're slightly worried."

"Aren't we all."

"We both realized that if Isran's even allowed us in here, he must be really concerned. And if he's that concerned, the situation must be pretty bad." Sorine shifted her weight between her feet, looking apologetic. "Does that make sense?"

Desmond nodded. "Yeah, I get it. I'm worried too, we're up against some pretty bad stuff."

"Yes," Sorine said, nodding emphatically. "These vampires are a new threat, and a truly deadly one. Gunmar and I agree that we're going to need Florentius to help."

"Who?"

"Gunmar and I have a lot of work to do here, so we were hoping that maybe you could track him down?" Sorine asked, biting her lip.

"Who's Florentius?" Desmond asked.

"He's a priest of Arkay... well, he _was_," Sorine corrected quickly. "It's... it's complicated. He's a little eccentric, but we can trust him, and we could definitely use his skills."

Desmond cast a glance at Serana, who shook her head. "Where do I find him?" Desmond asked, turning back to Sorine as Serana scoffed at him.

"Well, that's the thing. We don't know where he is," Sorine admitted. "Haven't seen him in years. I think he had regular contact with the Vigilants, and I know Isran kept track of them. So... maybe you can ask Isran if he knows anything? Just keep in mind that... well, that he might not like the idea."

Serana nudged him with the toe of her boots. "Why would he not like the idea?" Desmond asked, sliding his foot back to throw her off.

"The two of them just never got along. That's why Isran didn't have you go look for him when he sent you after us."

Serana full-on kicked him. Desmond dug his elbow into her side. "So you're sending _me_ to talk to Isran because he doesn't completely hate me yet, is that it?"

Sorine put her hands together. "Please? Just try. I think Florentius could really help us."

Desmond's shoulders drooped. "Fine."

"Desmond!" Serana snapped. "We have better things to do!"

"Let's be honest," Desmond said. "Finding your Scroll might well take a while—"

"Let's not forget about the _entire third Scroll that we have to find—"_

"That one's easy—"

"Since when is finding Elder Scrolls easy?" she demanded. Sorine awkwardly backed out of the conversation, leaving them to bicker as Desmond went to find Isran.

"It's gonna be _fine, _remember how I said I had a friend who'd read one?"

"He still has it?" Serana asked.

"Well... no, but—"

"Then how does that help us?"

"He'll know where it is!" Desmond said. "If anyone will, it'll be him. Relax, the last one'll be easy."

"It's a bad sign when _you_ have to tell _me_ to relax," Serana spat.

"Sera, we can do this," Desmond said, exasperated. "Besides, we're going to Castle Volkihar. That's across the country, _everything in between_ is on the way there. We can do Sorine's thing, get Martin's Scroll, then hop up to the courtyard and find your mother." He shrugged, pushing open a door. "Easy."

"Easy—!"

"What do you need?" Isran asked, eyeing Serana suspiciously. She stayed outside the room as Desmond spoke to him.

"You heard the Scroll reading," Desmond said. "What do you think now?"

"What do I _think? _I _think_ I heard a lot of vague nonsense," Isran said pointedly. "You could interpret that a hundred different ways. Only thing that stood out to me was Auriel's Bow. That's a powerful weapon, and I sure as Oblivion don't want the vampires to get a hold of it."

"Yeah. Agreed."

"The Moth Priest can stay for now," Isran said. "As for the vampire..." He glared at Serana just outside the door. "I still don't trust it, so keep it on a leash."

Desmond sighed, shaking his head. "Whatever. Anyway. I need to find someone named Florentius, so—"

"Who said something?" Isran snapped harshly. "Sorine or Gunmar? I thought they'd've learned their lesson by now, I don't trust that man and I don't want him here."

Desmond swallowed. "...Sorine thought we'd need his help."

Isran grumbled incoherently, shaking his head.

"Come on. You're gonna need all the help you can get," Desmond pointed out.

"I suppose she's right," Isran mumbled. "Last I heard, he was aiding the Vigilants of Stendarr up at Ruunvald. He may still be there."

Desmond checked his map, locating Ruunvald. "See, Sera, it's not too far. We can do that, drop him back here, and head off to Dawnstar, then we'll hit Volkihar—"

"Desmond, this is _not_ a sightseeing trip!" Serana snapped.

"It'll be fine!"

"If Florentius can maintain some appearance of normalcy, I'll allow him to stay," Isran growled at him.

"Yeah, yeah." Desmond shoved his map back into his bag, waving for Serana to follow him. "Come on. Let's go bolster the ranks."


	5. Florentius

**Florentius**

"So... were you and Valerica close?"

Serana shrugged, following him up the mountain path towards Ruunvald. "Before my father became obsessed with the prophecy, my mother and I spent quite a bit of time together. She was very fond of her alchemy garden in the castle courtyard, she taught me quite a bit about cultivating quality reagents."

"You were _always_ tight? Lucky," Desmond said, scanning around the mouth of the ruin. There was a small camp set up outside, but no one was around.

"We were like the best of friends. I would never hesitate to share anything with her," Serana said, halfheartedly picking up a book that had been left behind.

"You're lucky to have had that. What changed?"

"It was very sudden." She dropped the book back onto its crate, and followed Desmond into the ruin. "It was almost like one day we were a normal family, and then the next I didn't know who they were. I'd try to visit my mother in the garden, and she'd shoo me away, saying she was _much too busy."_

"And you think she's still there."

"She had to be up to something in that garden," she reasoned. "I'm hoping it's a clue that will tell us where she went."

"Right. Fair deal." Desmond squinted down at a Vigilant who was patrolling. A strange cloud of magic surrounded his head. "Huh... Hey! Hello?" he called down to the man.

The Vigilant turned on him, firing spells and crossbow bolts at them. Desmond swore and recoiled back behind the railing, Serana dropping to her knees and slinging ice down at the Vigilant. The cloud of red vanished as the Vigilant hit the ground.

"What do you think...?" Desmond looked around for Serana. She had picked something up off the floor, and showed it to him.

"Look." It was a book, dirty but not faded or tremendously old. He scanned through it, flipping pages and finding nothing interesting.

"Just some boring journal," he said, shrugging.

"They're excavating something," Serana said. "They seem to think there's something pretty neat here."

"Whatever it is has everybody bewitched or something. Must be powerful."

Serana replaced the book near where she had found it. "Do you think Florentius got possessed, too?"

"I hope not—!" An animal growled from further inside the ruin, cutting him off. Serana squinted down the corridor and threw another spear of ice.

"What do you think is down here?" she asked, over the sound of a fading whimper.

"Hopefully not another hidden vampire daughter," Desmond said. "You're enough trouble."

"I hate you." Serana picked up another book, leafing through handwritten pages and frowning. "Another journal. Sounds like they started digging up precious ore."

"Whatever. Anything about magic?" Desmond asked, trying to peek over her shoulder. "People getting possessed? Stuff like that?"

Serana snapped the book shut and dropped it back on the crate where she had found it. "No."

Desmond scoffed at her, throwing a ball of light higher into the air to see further down the tunnels. "There aren't nearly enough men around here to have done all this so quickly. Not without help."

"They must be further in." Serana led the way into the mines, tossing a spike of ice at another Vigilant with red smoke around his head. "I mean... either that, or they're all dead."

"Then are they undead?" Desmond asked, turning over the felled Vigilant with the toe of his boot. "They don't look it."

"Definitely not, just bewitched. Something's got them," Serana concluded, picking up another book and tossing it over her shoulder. Desmond dodged out of the way and followed. "I'm not sure what, though."

"Hey, tell me something," Desmond said. "When you were hanging out down in your stone coffin thing—"

"Sleeping. I was sleeping."

"The whole time?" he asked. "You didn't ever—"

"If I woke up, I would have starved. It's a vampire thing," she said, shrugging.

"So can vampires starve to death?"

"I—what? I don't really care to find out."

Desmond fell silent, frowning. "How have you been eating this whole time you've been traveling?"

"I haven't eaten you yet—"

"Yeah, I know, but who _have_ you eaten?"

"I don't eat people!" Serana snapped at him.

"Right, fine, but what _have_ you been eating? Can you just go for days without eating, or—"

"Do we have to discuss this right now?"

"Can you feed off dead people?"

"Desmond—"

"What about nonhuman things?"

"What is it with you?" Serana demanded.

"I'm just curious whether or not I need to catch one of these guys instead of just shooting them."

"You'd let me feed off a Vigilant? That's..." Serana frowned at him.

Desmond shrugged. "Better them than me. And we kill them anyway, you might as well."

Serana rolled her eyes. "You're such a gentleman."

The further into the tunnels they went, the fewer Vigilants they encountered. The dusty surroundings gradually got cleaner and a little brighter as they lit the torches on the wall.

"Hey." Serana tossed another book at him. "Who's Minorne?"

"You say that like I should know." He leafed through it, growing uneasier with each page. "Why is everyone suddenly named Minorne?"

"Yeah. I'm curious."

"Well, I'm terrified." Desmond set the book back on its crate. "We'd better get Florentius and get out fast, before whatever's got the Vigilants grabs us, too."

"What do you even know about magic?" Serana asked curiously. "You hate on Winterhold, but—"

"I don't _hate_ Winterhold."

"Then why did you want to avoid it so badly?"

"I'm in no hurry to go back to Winterhold," Desmond explained, kicking aside an empty bucket. "That doesn't mean I hate it."

"Fine. Be obnoxious about it."

"What?"

Serana shook her head with a sigh. "Forget it."

Desmond glowered at her. "I used to know the Archmage."

"Used to? Until what?"

"Until his wife _shot him to death_ outside of Whiterun last year!" he snapped.

Serana's mouth fell open. "I—oh."

"Yeah. I don't really want to head back to the College if I can avoid it." He pushed open a grand set of doors that opened onto a massive torch sconce and another book. Serana picked it up, dusting it off and flipping it open.

"Glory be to Minorne, glory be to the mistress of all," she mumbled, flipping through it. "Sounds like trouble—"

Desmond seized the book out of her grasp, reading quickly. "The guard, Florentius, sent from the beacon, he still prays to Arkay," he read. "May he rot in his cage... Do you think he's still alive?"

"We'd better hope so."

Desmond tossed the book back down on its table, listening intently. There were faint voices coming from whatever ahead.

"Hey... who's the Archmage now?" Serana asked. "I mean, if your friend got killed, someone must have replaced him, right?"

"Probably. I mean, I guess." Desmond shrugged, loading his crossbow. "I don't have any reason to keep up with the College."

"Would they still let you in, if you had to get inside?"

"Maybe. Why?"

Serana shrugged in turn, following as Desmond crept along against the walls. "If we _have_ to get in for the Elder Scrolls, I want to know if there's going to be a problem. We could always fight our way in, I guess, but—"

Desmond shook his head. "Not a chance. Not the way it is now."

"What does that mean?"

Desmond took a shot, felling a Vigilant with a cloud of red around his head. "Half of Winterhold's fallen into the Sea of Ghosts. Bad place to pick a fight."

Serana pitched a ball of fire around the corner at a blonde woman who screamed at them and swung a staff. "Duly noted. What happened?"

"Damned if I know, I'm not a student," Desmond said, firing another arrow to silence the woman. She fell with a hitched gasp, and the room went quiet.

"That must be the last of them."

"Where's Florentius, then?" Desmond waved a hand in the air, blinking as the spell detected only a single, faint blob of red.

"Anything?" Serana asked, pulling coins and keys from the dead woman.

"Up there." Desmond led the way, taking the stairs two at a time. An iron cage hung by the stairs, suspended over the stone and housing a single, harangued looking priest. The man scrambled to his feet as soon as he saw Desmond.

"I knew it! I knew Arkay would save me!" he cried. "I asked for help and he sent you! You are a very welcome addition to this dreary place, my friend—I owe both you and Arkay a great deal."

"Don't mention it," Desmond said, Serana unlocking the door and yanking open the door to the cage. "You must be Florentius?"

The priest nodded with a bright grin, slipping past Desmond to stand on the stone steps. "I'm sure I'll manage to repay him later, but you... what can I do to thank you?"

"You know how to get out of this place?" Desmond asked. "Head south of here and check in with the Dawnguard, Isran needs your help."

Florentius's grin faded somewhat. "Isran? _My_ help? Is this... some kind of a joke?"

"What? No—"

"Did Arkay put you up to this?" Florentius asked seriously. "Isran's done nothing but mock me. He's never given me the respect I deserve."

"Do you have any idea what we're up against?" Serana asked. "We need all the help we can get here."

"Look, I've just gotten myself out of quite a mess here, in case you haven't noticed," Florentius pointed out. "And I... what's that?"

"What's...?"

Florentius shook his head at Desmond, holding up a hand as he argued with thin air. "No, that's not what I...! Yes, but..."

Serana nudged him with the toe of her boot, looking suspicious. "Do we _really_ need him?" she asked. Desmond shrugged, watching Florentius continue.

"Are you sure... really?" Florentius asked. He sighed. "Fine."

"So... what was all that?" Desmond asked.

"Arkay says it's a good idea for me to go," Florentius said, nodding. "I don't agree, but he's not the sort of fellow you can just ignore."

"Great, I think—!" Serana kicked him again. Desmond threw back his elbow.

"I'll see you at Fort Dawnguard, then. Don't worry, Arkay will show me the way." Florentius gave a halting bow and wandered off into the ruins. Desmond and Serana stayed on the stairs, watching the priest hop over the body of Minorne to leave.

"Should we go with him?"

"Maybe... imagine how angry Isran's going to be when he shows up," Serana said.

"Don't we have something better to do?" Desmond prodded. Serana kicked him again.

"Fine. What's next?" she asked.

"Let's get to Whiterun," Desmond said, hanging his crossbow over his shoulders. "If we're going to find an Elder Scroll, there's someone we'll need to talk to."

Serana followed him, looking over her shoulder at Florentius's retreating form. "Who are we going for, again?"

"His name's Martin. He's from Cyrodiil and he's got an Elder Scroll..." Desmond screwed up his face, thinking. "At least, he did."

"Did he lose it?"

"No! I mean, he might not have it _with_ him anymore," Desmond said, trying to remember the last time he had seen Martin with it. How long ago had it been, now? "But he'll know where it is if he doesn't have it on him."

"And who is he, exactly?"

"He used to be the Emperor, but then stuff happened," Desmond explained, shoving open the door for Serana.

"...What?"

"Come on. I'll explain."

* * *

_[A/N: I did not forget about you! I just took a vacation, and now I am tired. Please accept this tiny chapter in the promise of better things in coming weeks.]_


	6. A Near Miss

**A Near Miss**

Desmond frowned through the window of the little house on the hill, his nose pressed against the glass. "He's definitely been here."

"How can you tell?" Serana asked.

"Walls are straighter." He stepped back, shaking his head. "We probably just missed him."

"That doesn't help us."

"We can come back later. We'll have to, it's on the way back to the fort anyway." Desmond gave the door one final, lazy knock. "We'll talk to your mother first, that should give him enough time to get back here."

"What makes you think he'll come back?"

"It's his house, he lives here."

Serana rolled her eyes. "Obviously not, or he'd be here."

"It's gonna be fine, relax. These things always work out," Desmond said confidently.

"Do all your adventures run on luck?" Serana asked.

"Most of 'em. Served me well so far."

They headed off to the west, where Castle Volkihar waited.

* * *

"What do we do if she's not there?" Desmond asked, rowing the little boat towards the castle. "If this falls through, we're more than just sunk. We'll probably be dead. Or worse—"

"Shut up. It'll work," Serana said. "She's got to be here. I can't think of a single other place she would be."

"I hate it here," Desmond grumbled, jumping out into the shallows to drag the boat ashore. "Too many... weird things."

"I don't like it any more than you do," she reminded him. "We just have to be careful. Besides, I thought you'd seen worse than a castle full of vampires."

"Ever seen a dragon up close?" Desmond asked. Serana shook her head. "That's probably as bad as it can get."

"How'd you get out of that?"

Desmond snickered. "Punched it."

_"Right."_

"You should try it, dragon hunting's fun."

Serana shook her head, grinning. "I can't believe you."

The way to Serana's secret exit was snowy and cold, the narrow path lined with skeletons that creaked and clicked as they approached.

"Think they'll tell your dad we're here?" Desmond asked, his back against the wall.

Serana raised a handful of fire. "Not if we put them down."

Desmond laughed, watching a skeleton explode in several different directions as the flames connected. "My kind of adventure." He shot off a bolt, pinning a death hound to the door as they entered the castle.

"You're actually not bad. Who taught you how to shoot?" Serana asked. "Sorine?"

"Nah. Had this long before I joined the Dawnguard," Desmond said, reloading his crossbow. "Old colleague of mine."

"Sometimes you talk and you sound twice as old as you are. What kind of _colleagues_ did you keep?"

"Funny story. They were terrible so we split," he said. "I don't think I'll be seeing them again."

"Fair enough. Take a left up here," Serana directed. "This is one of those weird double-barred security measures my father put in when he got more paranoid."

"Your dad is _nuts."_

They came upon a room, ankle-deep with foul-smelling water and filled with piles of bones. Skulls littered the walls, some bloodier than others. Desmond shook his head violently, refusing to think of why so many bones could be down here. As more fell down from a hatch far above, he began to feel sick. "Where to?" he asked.

"Further up." Serana guided him through, avoiding the deeper patches of blood and water to a den. "I've never really been in this part of the castle before."

"Great."

Inside the den was a giant frostbite spider, its web spun all around the room. Desmond loosed a shot at the same time as Serana sent an icicle through its abdomen. The spider's pincers clicked together as it sank down to the ground, sticky venom leaking onto the floor.

"Gods, I _hate_ spiders. Are we through here?" Desmond asked, throwing his weight behind the switch until it moved. Somewhere below, the sound of metal on stone told them a gate had opened.

"Yeah. That should do it, come on."

Serana took him back through the room of bones and the stone paths beneath the castle, up to a door. "This should lead out to the courtyard."

Desmond pushed it open, expecting fresh air. Instead, the air hung thick with more dust and the smell of rotting plants. The courtyard was a mess, destroyed and deserted.

"Oh no..."

"What happened?" Desmond asked, hanging up his crossbow. "There's no one here."

"Everything's been torn down. The whole place looks... well, dead." Serana broke a blackened, dead flower off a similarly shriveled bush. "It's like we're the first to set foot here in centuries."

She led the way up a small flight of stairs, where a stone doorway had been blocked by a massive pile of stones. More dead plants lined the walkways, the fading sunlight giving the entire courtyard the eerie feel of a cemetery.

"This used to lead to the castle's main hall. Looks like my father had it sealed up," Serana guessed.

"Good ol' dad." Desmond asked, following her back down the stairs and across the courtyard. "What do you think happened here?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say the moment mother fled the castle, Father went on a rampage," Serana said. "Knowing him, anything at all that reminded him of her was just destroyed."

"And then he just walled it off?"

"It appears that way. I suppose he wanted to put the past behind him. Perhaps if he'd spent more time with us, he would have recognized the beauty for himself." She shook her head, walking around the big dial sunk into the floor. "I used to walk through here after evening meals. It was beautiful, once."

"I'll bet."

Serana stopped by a fenced-in area of even more dead plants, a heartbroken look on her face as a leaf turned to dust in her hand. "This was my mother's garden. Do you know how beautiful something can be when it's tended by a master for hundreds of years?"

Desmond shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"She would have hated to see it like this. Wait..."

"Hm?"

Serana returned to the dial in the center of the room. "Something's wrong with the moondial here. Some of the crests are missing and the dial is askew," she said, kneeling down to look at an indentation in the ground. "I didn't even know the crests COULD be removed. Maybe my mother's trying to tell us something?"

"Or maybe some birds took 'em," Desmond said, shrugging. "It _has_ been hundreds of years, Sera."

She shook her head. "No, I'm telling you, there's something strange with the moondial."

"What's so special about this thing, anyway?"

"As far as I'm aware, it's the only one in existence," Serana told him. "The previous owners of the castle had a sundial in the courtyard, and obviously that didn't appeal to my mother. She persuaded an Elven artisan to make some improvements. You can see the plates that show the phases of the moons, Masser and Secunda." She pointed to the crests, and to the indentations where they were missing.

"So does it work?" Desmond asked, wiping the dust away from the face of one of the crests still on the dial. It was a brilliant, glassy half moon that shone in the fading light.

"That's the thing... what's the _point_ of a moondial?" Serana shrugged. "I always wondered why she didn't have the whole thing ripped out. I don't know, I guess it's like having a piece of art, if you're into that sort of thing."

"So... do we fix it?" Desmond stood up, looking around. "I mean, if we even can. What do we do to it?"

"Hard to say. Maybe if we found the missing crests, we could figure it out."

"They can't have gone too far, right?"

Desmond hopped back up the stairs to the blocked in door, scanning the courtyard for anything that gleamed or looked remotely shinier than the rest of the dead landscape. Serana searched in the garden, digging into the soil with her hands.

"So. Tell me about your family," Desmond said conversationally, yanking aside a dead potted plant in his search.

"There's not a whole lot to tell," Serana replied, raising her voice to carry over the courtyard. "You've already seen my father's obsession. My mother's not a whole lot better, but you'll see that soon enough."

"Were you ever close with them? I mean, I know you were tight with your mother, but what about your father?"

"No, not really. I did spend a lot of time with my mother, but she saw me more like a protégé than a daughter," Serana said. "What about you? What were your parents like?"

Desmond gave a hollow laugh. "I grew up in an orphanage, mostly," he said. "Run-down little place in Riften. Mom died when I was little, Dad didn't have time for me and shipped me off there. I never really knew them, I was mostly alone."

"I know how that feels." She quickly shook her head. "I mean, I know it isn't the same thing, but I was a pretty lonely child myself."

Desmond picked up a round, gleaming thing that looked more like a mirror than a crest. "Do you still feel lonely?"

"Not as much."

"Good. No one should." He held up the crest, waving it at her with a grin on his face. "Got one."

"Great. Let's, uh... let's just keep looking."

Desmond picked up another just as Serana found the last one. "What do we do with them?"

"Give 'em here." Serana took his two and studied the dial for a moment, deciding where they ought to go. When the crests were properly replaced, the moondial moved on its own. Desmond and Serana took a few steps back as it spun around, the stone floor of the courtyard dropping to reveal stairs. Desmond laughed, jumping down to the door the stairs were leading to.

"Very clever, Mother. Very clever." Serana followed him down as he pushed open the door. "I've never been in those tunnels before, but I'd bet they run right under the courtyard and into the tower ruins."

"And you think she'll be there?"

Serana did not answer immediately. "Well, at least we're getting closer. Let's go."

"Right."

The tunnel led them on a winding journey to what appeared to be a kitchen. More piles of bloody bones and spices sat around a cooking fire and pot. Desmond paused at the door, his teeth on edge.

Serana, meanwhile, ventured fearlessly on. "I've never even _seen_ this part of the castle before. Be careful. I don't know what might be around."

"Great. That's comforting," Desmond grumbled, following. "Excellent."

"How do you have friends?" Serana asked. "Are you always like this? Do people just tolerate you?"

"Put me in front of a dragon and I'm an absolute _joy_," he promised. Serana snickered, shaking her head.

They headed up a bloodstained set of stairs to a dining table set with more bones. The skeletons sitting at the chairs rose to life slowly enough to be picked off by icicles and crossbow bolts.

"How big _is_ this castle?" Desmond asked. "I knew it was big, but I'm pretty sure we're _far_ underground at this point."

"There used to be a lot more people here," she said. "Servants and such, you know. I guess they all had to be somewhere when they weren't watching over us."

An explosion of rock from the wall to their right announced the arrival of another statue with sharp wings and obsidian eyes. The gargoyle let out a screeching roar, lunging at them with broken stone claws.

Serana let loose with palms full of fire. Desmond stumbled backwards against a wooden table, firing a bolt into its wing. The gargoyle bellowed and stomped forward, swinging its claws at him. Desmond slammed back against the table, dishes and cups clattering to the floor.

A burst of flames collided with the gargoyle's head, sending it reeling to one side. Desmond rolled off the table, lobbing a heavy pitcher at it. Serana sent an icicle through its neck, sending it down to the ground at last.

They were silent for a moment, listening. The noise of grinding stone was gone, but the creaking sound of bone still echoed through the underground chambers. Desmond shivered, unsettled.

"I can hear it too," Serana said. "But they're not close by."

"I hate it." Desmond brushed dust and splinters off his chest and back, continuing on through the doors. "The first time I saw a fully necromanced body was terrifying."

"Did you shoot it?"

Desmond stifled a laugh. "No. That would have been rude, but that's another story."

"For some reason, I got the impression you and yours have something against necromancy," Serana pointed out. "How'd you see a thrall?"

"Funny story. Except it's not so much funny as soul-crushing, and also the reason you should never use necromancy when we meet with Martin," Desmond said. "Ever."

Serana shrugged. "Whatever you say."

The room they came to was empty, save for a motionless stone gargoyle in front of a pull chain. Even a well-placed bolt between the eyes failed to wake it.

"I don't like it."

"We don't have to like it, we just have to pull it," Serana said.

"I think its eyes are following me." Desmond inched away from the gargoyle, watching it cautiously.

Serana kicked him. "Go pull it."

"You pull it!"

"Come on, be a man!"

"Age before beauty!"

She punched him as he shied away from her, immediately and rightly mortified. _"Did you just call me old AND ugly, you—"_

"I'm sorry—"

"Go pull it, you owe me that!"

Desmond shoved her aside and crept behind the gargoyle. It stood silent and still as he gripped the chain. With a deep breath, he yanked it until the gears behind the wall began to turn.

Stony shrapnel exploded against the wall as the gargoyle burst to life. Desmond flattened himself against the wall and shrank into the corner as Serana came full-force at them with fire and ice. The gargoyle shrieked and turned, lumbering towards her and freeing Desmond enough to fire a bolt into its back. The gargoyle fell flat to the ground, its wing breaking off into pieces as it crashed.

Serana stepped over the stone remains to help Desmond up. "You ok?"

"Yeah." Desmond kicked the gargoyle aside, looking for whatever the chain had opened. "What now?"

Serana twisted a candlestick by the fireplace. The wall opened up, revealing another passageway. "Leave it to my mother. Always smarter than I gave her credit for," she said. "This has to be it."

They followed a trail of burned and ruined books, empty inkwells and crushed quills leading up a long set of winding stairs. Desmond threw his shoulder into the door, finally succeeding in getting it open.

A big, circular patch of stone surrounded by candles in the center of the floor drew their attention first. Shelves full of books and ingredients lined the walls, tables cluttered with dust and more concoctions were scattered around the laboratory. The faintly acrid smell of an alchemy lab's fire burned in the corner.

"What's all this?" Desmond asked, picking up a troll skull from one of the tables.

"I knew she was deep into necromancy. I mean, she taught me everything I know," Serana said. "But I had no idea she had a setup like this. Look at all this!" She held up a bowl full of some sort of dust. "She must have spent years collecting all these components."

"Right." Desmond carefully set the troll skull back down as Serana came over to see. "I don't... really want anything to do with this."

"And what's this thing?" Serana looked over her shoulder, back at the circle of candles in the center of the room. "It's obviously... something."

"Well put."

"Let's take a look around," Serana said, kicking the door shut and dropping her bag off by the wall. "There has to be something here that tells us where she's gone."

"What might that be, exactly?" Desmond set down his crossbow and bag on the table, looking around the room. On the opposite end of the lab was a raised section, filled with even more bookshelves and tables. An enchanter's table stood near the wall. "This could take a while."

"My mother was meticulous about her research. If we can find her notes, there might be some hints in there."

"She didn't keep gargoyles in here, did she?" Desmond asked. "Or any other weird pets?"

"Not that I ever saw. My mother had a bit of a thing for magical constructs. Not what you're thinking," she added quickly. Desmond stared back at her, clueless. "...Never mind."

"This is quite the lab," Desmond said, going through some of the books on one side of the room. None of them were remotely close to the early levels of magic he could understand. "This is impressive stuff."

"I had no idea this place even existed." Serana mounted the stairs to the other end of the room, looking through the other bookshelves. "She had an alchemy setup in her drawing room, but that doesn't even come close to what's here."

"What did she research?" Desmond flipped through a book, finding nothing useful.

"Looking at the equipment and materials, it looks like she was trying to advance her necromancy."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Serana tossed aside a book, picking up a new one. "Certainly not longevity. Bit of a waste of time for a vampire."

"Heh. Right." Desmond turned over a tattered red journal in his hands, flipping through the handwritten pages. Much of it made no sense. "Hey, I think I've got something."

"Yeah?"

"Found her notes." Desmond climbed up the stairs to show her the book.

"You did? Let me see them!" Serana all but snatched the book from him, excitedly flipping through them as Desmond read over her shoulder.

"What's the Soul Cairn?" he asked, frowning.

"I only know what she told me. She had a theory about soul gems," Serana explained, still reading. "She thought the souls inside of them don't just vanish when they're used, they end up in the Soul Cairn."

Desmond blinked. "I don't really understand any of that stuff. Why would she care where used souls went?"

"The Soul Cairn is home to very powerful beings. Necromancers send them souls, and receive powers of their own in return," Serana explained. "My mother spent a lot of time trying to contact them directly, to travel to the Soul Cairn itself."

"So... if she made it, that's where we'll find her?" he guessed.

"That thing is definitely some type of portal," Serana said, pointing back to the circle in the center of the room. "If I'm reading this right, there's a formula here that should give us safe passage into the Soul Cairn."

"Neat. What do we need?"

Serana opened the journal again, skipping back a few pages. "A handful of soul gem shards," she read off, "some finely ground bonemeal, a good bit of purified void salts... oh... dammit."

"What?"

"We're also going to need a sample of her blood." Serana snapped the book shut again, eyes squeezed shut. "Which... if we could get that, we wouldn't even be trying to do this in the first place."

"Do you think it would work with your blood?" Desmond asked. "I mean... you _are_ her daughter."

"Hmm. Not bad. We'd better hope that's good enough, mistakes with these kind of portals can be gruesome."

Desmond felt his heart drop. "Don't talk me out of this."

"Right. Let's get started." Serana set the book down on the enchanter, scanning the shelves.

"Will everything be here?"

"Oh, definitely. Mother would have plenty of those materials in her laboratory, we just need to find them."

Desmond vaulted back down the stairs to search the downstairs shelves as Serana worked through the upstairs.

"What can you tell me about the Soul Cairn?" Desmond asked, looking over the different kinds of dust on the shelf and wondering how on earth anyone was supposed to tell the difference.

"The Soul Cairn is a tiny sliver of Oblivion," Serana said. "Its ruled by unseen beings known as the Ideal Masters."

"Are they daedra?"

"Nobody really knows. As far as I've heard, no one's seen them and returned to Tamriel to tell about it."

Desmond nearly knocked over a bowl of some sort of fungus. "Great. Why was your mother so fascinated by it?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Necromancers are always interested in souls, though, so that probably has some kind of interest."

"And she got _you_ into necromancy, right?"

"Yeah. She taught me everything I know." A gentle clattering of bowls from above as Serana went through the shelves. "It's all thanks to her."

"The vampire thing, too?"

"Huh?"

"I mean... were you always a vampire?" Desmond asked.

"That's a long story."

"I've got long stories, too."

Serana laughed. "No you don't. Not like this one."

"Lemme hear it."

There was a heavy sigh from above the stairs. "I guess we kind of have to go way back, to the very beginning. You know where vampires came from?"

"Not... really."

"The first vampire came from Molag Bal. She... was not a willing subject, but she was still the first."

Desmond's stomach turned unpleasantly. "Whoa, are you saying—"

"Molag Bal is a powerful Daedric lord," Serana went on quickly. "And his will is made reality. For those willing to subjugate themselves, he will still bestow the gift, but they must be powerful in their own right before earning his trust."

Desmond paused, adding Molag Bal to the ever-growing list of lords never to tangle with. "So... that's how it happened?" he asked tentatively.

"The ceremony was... degrading," Serana said slowly. "Let's not revisit that."

"Fair."

"But we all took part in it. Not really wholesome family activity, but it's one of the things you do when you give yourselves to a Daedric lord."

Desmond pulled a few bottles off the shelves, dust falling to the floor as he did. "Do you ever regret it?"

"Huh?"

"Do you regret becoming a vampire?" he asked.

Silence for a moment, then the scratching of wooden chair legs on stone. "Nobody's ever asked me that before. I... I don't know," she said. "I think mostly I hate what it's done to my family."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you've met most of us. My father's not exactly the most stable, and eventually he drove my mother crazy with him," Serana said. "And it all ended with me being locked underground for whoe knows how long. It's definitely been a bad thing, on the whole."

Desmond picked up a little silver bowl, full of crystalline slivers of soul gems. He held it up so Serana could see it. "Soul gem shards?"

She gave a halting nod. "Yeah. Nice."

"What's left?"

"Bonemeal and void salts."

"...What do those look like?"

"You're so useless." Serana pushed back her chair to resume her search. "Go throw the soul gems in the vessel up there and give me a minute."

Desmond passed her on the stairs, the little bowl in hand. "You ok?"

She nodded. "I will be. Just, just give me a little time."

He thought better of pressing the subject, and tossed the little violet slivers into a tall bowl on top of a pedestal. After a few quiet moments, Serana joined him at the top of the stairs, dumping in two little bowls of powders.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Are you ready to go? I'm not entirely sure what this thing is going to do when I add my blood." Serana pulled her dagger out of her belt, looking to him.

"Can I ask you something?"

She nodded. "Sure."

"What are you going to do when we find her?"

Serana sighed. "I've been asking myself the same thing since we came back to the castle. She was _so sure_ of what we did to my father... I couldn't help but go along with her. I never thought of the cost."

"Well... if it hadn't been me that found you, or if someone else had been with me, it would have cost her you," Desmond pointed out. "I don't really know what she was thinking."

"Neither do I."

"We won't know until we find her," Desmond added.

"Yes. You're right, I'm sorry." Serana shook her head. "I just didn't expect anyone to care how I felt about her."

"Love 'em or hate 'em, your parents are still your parents."

"Do you think I'm wrong?" she asked. "To be upset with her?"

"Wha—_no,"_ he said. "That's not what I mean, just—I think both of your parents are dreadful, but my opinion isn't the one that matters. They're _your_ parents, you can feel whatever you want about them."

"Yeah... I guess."

Desmond gestured dramatically to the bowl full of powder and soul gems. "Are we ready then?"

"All right, here goes."

Serana sliced open her palm, letting the blood trickle down into the bowl. The circle below lit up with purple light, the bricks spinning as the whole room shook.

"By the gods!"

"She actually did it," Serana breathed, watching the rings of stone come up to form a stairway down into the pit of light. "She created a portal to the Soul Cairn. Incredible."

"So..." Desmond looked down the stairway. The stones disappeared into the light. "Do we just...?"

"I guess?"

Desmond shrugged, jumping down onto the stairs. The portal gave off a wave of cool air as he descended with Serana right behind him. Once his feet dipped beneath the threshold of light a deathly chill came over him. Some unseen force tore at him, as if trying to reach something just underneath his skin.

He yelled, hastily retreating back up the stairs. Serana stopped, confused.

"Are you all right?" She followed him back to the high ground. "That looked painful."

"What happened?" Desmond sat down by the pedestal holding the powders and blood, panting. "That hurt."

"Now that I think about it, I should have expected that. Sorry."

"What gives?" he demanded.

"It's hard to describe. The Soul Cairn is..." She sat down beside him, frowning. "...well, hungry. For lack of a better word. It's trying to take your soul essence as payment."

Desmond hugged his arms over his chest, as if that might help stave off the Soul Cairn. "I need my soul, though!"

"No one's gonna make you give it up," Serana assured him.

"Is there another way in, then?"

Serana paused a split-second too long for his liking. "Maybe—"

_"Maybe?"_

"There might be," she said. "But I don't think you're going to like it."

"What's worse than getting my soul ripped out?" Desmond scoffed.

Serana fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well... vampires aren't counted among the living. I could go through there without a problem."

Desmond felt the color run out of his face. "Are you saying I _have_ to be a vampire to get through?"

"Not your first choice, I'd guess?" she asked wryly.

"There has to be another way." Desmond shook his head, terrified. "Sera, please, there has to be."

"Maybe. Let me think... we could just pay the toll another way," she suggested. "It wants a soul, so we give it a soul. Yours."

Desmond scowled at her. "What, no, it's MY soul! You just said no one would make me give it up!"

"Not the whole thing!" Serana tapped her fingers against her knees, thinking. "My mother taught me a trick or two. I could partially soul trap you and offer the gem to the Ideal Masters," she explained. "It might be enough to satisfy them. It would make you a bit weaker while we travel inside the Soul Cairn, but there might be a way to fix that once we're inside."

_"Might be?"_

"Maybe."

Desmond chewed on his tongue, thinking hard. "Are these my only two options?"

"I'm sorry." Serana pushed herself back up, offering Desmond her hand. "I wish I knew a better way, something that would be easier for you."

"Yeah, yeah," Desmond grumbled, letting her pull him up. "Lemme think."

"Just know that... whatever path you choose, I won't think any less of you," Serana told him firmly. "Sometimes things just have to be done. I know that better than anybody."


End file.
